l&IE 


■■■'■■?     ,     ;  \ 


,<iMM, 


ir^mh'i^A^dAK^ffA  c 


ii 


llili 


1111 


^— r 


1. 


Presented  by 
%     Ddtr  Received 
No. 


cm 


ro,  &&(o. 


■^ 


EXTRA^OT 


\      Fraiii   (til   Alt  pfenci-lbiiii/    liiilcn   for  thf   Governmfiit  o/  the   Slate  Llhruii/, 
S  puHMil.    March    Sth.   1861. 


Section  11.     The   Librarian  s-hall   cause  td  be  kept    a  re;^ister  of  all 

\    books  issued  and  returned  ;  and  all  Imoks  taken  Ity  the  members  of  the 

liCiishiture,  or  il^Mftaev-',  shall  be  rolunied  at  the  close  of  the  session.     If 

K  rsoti   injure  oriol*J;gifctnrii  any  book  taken   from  the  Library,  he 

T  :■«.., .:.)llXv.,.,i,„ 


the  liinelit  of  the  Library,  three    1 
iiQWler  shall   issue  his  warrant     ' 


=n.y   p  .  ,j^ 

shall  forfeit  and  pay  to  the  Librari^O'. 

liiiu's  the  value  thereol';   and  before  (he 

in  favor  of  any  nienib.-r  or  officer  of  the   Leiiislature,  or  of  this   State,  for 

his  per  diem  allowance  or  .-alary,  he  shall  be  satisfied  that  such  member  or 

ofticer'has  returncil   all   books   taken   out   of  the  Library  by  him,  and   has 

settled  a'.l  accounts  for  iujurin;;'  such  books  or  otherwise.  *; 

Si;c.  1.').      Hooks  may  bo  taken  from  the  Library  by  the  members  of  the 
Lcuislature  and  its  officers  during  the  session  of  the  same,  and  at  any  time 
by  the  Governor  and  the  officers  of  the  E.xecutive  Department  of  this  State    - 
who  are  required  to  keep  their  offices  at  the  saat  of  government,  the   Jus-    (1 
ticcs  of  the  Supreme  Court,  the   Attorney-(!eneral,  and   the  Trustees  of    \ 
the  Tjibrarv. 


CALIFORNIA  Sir:  LIBRARY. 

SACR^ '       ro 

book  is  due  ' '  late  stamped  below. 

»ok  may  be  weeks  and  renewed 


f 


■^;>^.  '. 


<rj^'-^.^ 


in'.' 


MAI  A  AND  CI.EON. 


Talcs  and  Sketches. 


TALES  AND  SKETCHES 


OF 


CHRISTIAN    LIFE, 


ijx 


gifftrcnt  %mh  anir  %^ts. 


BT   Tn£    AUTHOK   OP 

"THE  CHRONICLE  OF  THE  SCHOXBERG-COTTA  l^AMILY." 


n       _-<5 


■< '  > 


NEW  YORK: 
ROBERT    CARTER   &    BROTHERS, 

530  Broadway, 
1865. 


BY    THE    SAME    AUTHOR  : 

THE   CRIPPLE   OF  ANTIOCH.    16mo 
THE   MARTYRS  OF  SPAIN.     16mo. 


Hexrt  Bsms,  Stereotyper,  19  Chatham  St.,  N.  Y. 


PREFACE. 


In  v,-riting  this  little  book,  I  have  not  felt  as 
if  addressing  strangers,  much  less  that  grave 
tribunal  conjured  up  by  the  phrase,  "  the  pub- 
lic; "  but  simply  as  if  speaking  to  my  friends, 
and  the  meoibers  of  my  own  family,  one  by  one, 
of  the  things  we  love  best.  To  them  I  now 
offer  it. 

I  have  not  sought  to  give  an  outline  of  (he 
corruptions  and  controversies  of  the  Churcli, 
but  of  the  Life  which  has  at  all  times  pierced 
through  the  snows  of  un-Christian  and  anti- 
Christian  systems; — of  those  trees  planted  by 
the  Rivers  of  AVaters  whose  leaf  has  never 
withered,  and  with  which  the  hardest  and 
driest  times  were  always  "duo  seasons"  for 
"bringing  forth  fruit." 

^—V  ■.  "^  ^     K  iii    'L,J 


^4      f 


IV  PREFACE. 

Some  of  the  Sketches  are  historical  as  to 
persons  and  incidents,  and  some  are  not.  In 
the  "Italian  Reformers,"  only  the  conversa- 
tions are  imaginary ;  in  the  first  and  third  parts 
of  the  "Sketches  of  the  Moravians,"  only  the 
first  conversation.  The  other  Tales  are  mere- 
ly founded  on  the  facts  of  general  history. 

In  looking  over  these  pages,  and  thinking  of 
the  exceeding  grandeur  of  the  realities  on  which 
they  so  feebly  touch,  I  almost  shrink  from 
what  I  have  attempted ;  yet,  are  not  these  high 
truths  the  very  atmosphere  of  the  renewed 
life — the  daily  bread  of  God's  "  little  chil- 
dren ?"  and  is  it  not  as  unwise  to  forget  that  we 
are  each  given  a  lamp  to  carry,  as  to  imagine 
that  the  light  is  in  us  ? 

Should  these  Sketches  be  the  means  of  point- 
ing out  to  any  the  inexhaustible  Treasure  of 
Truth  contained  in  the  Bible — of  leading  one 
unsettled  heart  to  the  rest  of  the  "single  eye," 
the  "straight path,"  and  the  "lowest  place" — 
of  bringing  one,  still  in  bondage,  into  the  peace 
and  freedom  of  the  "child" — of  arousing  one 
languid  child  to  the  blessed  ministrations  of 


PREFACE.  V 

disciplesliip — of  reminding  any  who  are  "cum- 
bered about  much  serving,"  to  seek  the  calm 
strength  given  to  those  who  sit  at  His  feet, 
and  hear  His  words — my  most  earnest  wishes 
will  be  fulfilled. 

We  serve  One  who  rewardeth  the  cup  of  cold 
water,  and  "upbraideth  not." 

At  His  feet  I  lay  the  unworthy  offering. 
May  that  touch  and  that  Holy  Spirit  who 
dwelleth  with  us  for  ever  paralyze  every  error 
contained  in  it,  and  give  life  to  every  truth  ! 
With  Him  I  leave  it.  Let  Him  do  with  it  Avhat 
seemeth  Him  good. 


CONTENTS. 


MAIA    AND    CLKOX.       A    TALK    OK    TilK    EGYPTIAN    CHURCU    IN 

TUli    THIUO    CKN'TUIIY. 
SKKTCHES    I'ROM     THE     HISTOKY     OF     THE     REFORMATION     IN 

ITALY. 

EXTRACTS  FROM  THi:  DIARY  OF  BROTHER  BARTHOLOMEW, 
A  MONK  OF  THE  ABBEY  OF  MARIENTHAL,  IN  TUB  ODEN- 
WALD,    IX    Tin;    TWKLFTH    CENTURY. 

SKETCHES  OF  THE  UNITi;D  BRETHREN  OF  BOHEMIA  AND 
MORAVIA. 


MAIA  AND  CLEON. 


CHAPTER  I. 

It  was  summer,  and  mid-day.  lu  the  swarm- 
ing city  of  Alexandria,  the  rich  were  resting  in 
their  inner  chambers,  the  craftsmen  were  labor- 
ing drowsily  in  the  shade  of  their  open  work- 
shops, and  the  hum  of  the  great  city  came  faint 
in  the  quiet  of  noon  to  the  villa  of  the  old  Ro- 
man general,  Caius  Sertorius.  The  veteran  lay 
asleep  on  a  couch  in  the  portico  after  his  mid-day 
meal,  while  two  children  played  in  the  garden 
at  his  feet. 

It  was  a  stifl'  old  Roman  garden,  arranged 
with  a  precision  as  military  as  the  taste  of  a  vet- 
eran grown  gray  in  the  exercise  of  Roman  dis- 
cipline could  make  it ;  ranks  of  cypresses,  and 
files  of  palms,  and  cohorts  of  flowering  shrubs, 
marshaled  around  a  marble  fountain,  and  flanked 
at  regular  intervals  by  obelisks  and  statues 
— the  whole  surrounded  by  a  terraced  wall,  to 
which  one  of  the  mouths  of  the  Nile  served  as  a 
fosse.  But  nature  did  all  she  could  to  spoil  the 
plan  ;  not  our  plodding  northern  nature,  ^x'lth 
slow  industry  weaving  out  her  designs  from  year 
to  year,  but  the  impetuous  nature  of  the  south, 
1* 


6      A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

doing  the  Avork  of  a  season  in  a  day,  working- 
fairy  wonders  in  a  night,  garlanding  the  stone 
gods  and  lieroes  Avith  living  wreaths  of  glory, 
festooning  the  tall  tnuiks  with  vine  leaves,  call- 
ing forth,  unbidden,  sweet  flowers  to  drink  the 
sparkling  drops  which  fell  from  the  fountain,  and 
making  everywhere  fantastic  tracery  of  light  and 
shade. 

The  children  were  soon  tired  with  play.  The 
boy  leaned  against  the  pedestal  of  a  statue  of 
Diana ;  the  little  girl  sat  on  the  ground  to  weave 
a  crown  of  flowers — her  white  dress,  with  its 
wide  purple  border,  shining  in  the  shade  of  the 
cypresses,  and  her  sunny  eyes  sparkling,  as  from 
time  to  time  she  flung  the  long  hair  back  from 
her  forehead,  and  looked  up  in  her  companion's 
face. 

They  were  not  brother  and  sister :  their  forms 
were  cast  in  a  dififerent  mould.  He  was  Greek, 
and  she  was  Italian.  The  first  impression  of  his 
foi'm,  in  rejDOse — the  long,  soft,  dark  eye,  the 
slight  frame — might  have  been  that  of  languoi* ; 
but  the  firmly-set  lips  cou.tradicted  the  languid 
calm  of  the  eye ;  the  slight,  muscular  frame 
when  in  action  seemed  merely  a  condensation 
of  strength  ;  and  even  in  the  eye  itself,  if  you 
watched  its  expression,  there  was  more  of  the 
slumber  of  power  than  of  the  lack  of  it — more  of 
the  dreaming  of  imawakened  energy  than  of  the 
indolence  of  v>^eaknoss.  She  was  still  a  child,  the 
flower  of  the  old  Roman's  heart — the  music  of 


IN   THE    THIRD   CENTURY.  7 

his  life — bright  and  joyous — without  a  care  for 
to-morrow,  or  a  tear  for  yesterday.  The  boy  was 
telling  her.  old  Greek  stories  of  the  gods  and 
heroes — how  in  the  old  times  the  gods  walked 
amongst  men — how  they  set  their  love  on  some, 
and  took  them  up  into  heaven  to  be  stars. 

"I  hope  they  Avill  never  love  you  or  me, 
Cleon,"  said  the  little  girl,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Why,  Maia  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Because  I  would  much  rather  be  children 
like  we  are,  than  stars,  all  alone  in  the  cold  sky, 
away  from  every  one." 

"But  they  give  light,  Maia,  and  every  one 
sees  and  worships  them,  and  they  are  amongst 
the  gods." 

"  I  would  like  much  better  to  hear  you  tell 
stories,"  said  ]\Laia,  "and  play  with  you,  and 
sit  on  my  father's  knee,  than  to  be  amongst 
the  strange  great  gods  whom  we  have  never 
seen." 

"  That  is  because  you  are  a  woman,  Maia,  and 
have  no  ambition." 

Maia  sat  rebuked,  and  wondered  what  ambi- 
tion meant. 

Then  Cleon  told  her  of  the  wars  of  the  gods 
and  the  Titans— how  the  rebellious,  vanquished 
giants  lay  writhing  under  the  mountains;  some- 
times,  in  still  nights,  people  had  heard  their 
groans  echoing  through  the  hollow  hills,  or  quiver- 
ing mournfully  through  the  trees  when  no  air  was 
stirring — and  on  summer  noons,  when  everything 


8      A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

■was  qiuet,  had  felt  the  ground  heave  with  their 
struggles  to  get  free. 

"  Poor  giants !  "  sighed  the  soft-hearted  Maia, 
"  I  am  so  sorry  for  them,  Cleon  ;  Avill  they  never 
be  let  out  of  prison  ?" 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  Cleon. 

"  Wliat  did  they  do,"  asked  Maia,  "  to  be  so 
punished  ?" 

"  They  rebeled  against  the  gods,  and  wanted 
to  sit  upon  their  thrones ;  but  the  gods  were  the 
stronger,  and  so  they  lost  the  battle." 

"  Were  they  very  Avicked  ?" 

"  I  have  heard  that  they  were  kind  to  men, 
and  that  it  is  for  trying  to  steal  some  gift  from 
"  heaven  for  men,  that  one  of  them  suffers  so." 

"Oh,  Cleon!  how  could  the  gods  do  so!"  ex- 
claimed Maia,  indignantly;  "I  love  the  poor 
giants  ! — can  we  not  help  them  ?" 

Cleon  was  silent.  "There  are  men  too,  ]Maip, 
that  sutler  unjustly,"  he  said  at  length.  "My 
lather's  family  was  great  in  Greece  when  your 
people  came  one  day  to  the  city  v>-here  we  lived. 
I  never  heard  of  them  before.  "\^"c  had  done 
them  no  wrons;.  I  remember  that  night  now, 
though  I  was  a  very  little  child.  My  mother  had 
just  laid  me  to  sleep.  My  father  was  resting  in 
the  hall,  for  he  had  been  hunting,  and  was  tired. 
My  only  sister,  who  was  many  years  older  than 
I  was,  was  singing  sweet  songs  to  liim — I  never 
heard  any  like  theni  since.  A  great  noise  awoke 
me — screams,  and  threats,  and  cries:  I  hear  them 


IN    THE   THIKD    Cl^NTURT.  9 

now.  My  mother  caught  me  up  in  her  arms,  but 
rousfh  hands  seized  me  and  tore  me  from  her.  I 
was  too  frightened  to  see  much  more ;  but  I  tliink 
I  heard  my  fatlier's  voice,  and  saw  my  mother 
bending  over  him  ;  I  think  his  hands  were  bound, 
and  he  was  bleeding.  And  I  remember  my  sister 
Alce's  look  as  they  dragged  her  away — I  remem- 
ber it  now,  how  she  kissed  me !  She  did  not  cry 
nor  struggle,  but  let  them  quietly  bind  her  hands, 
and  told  me  not  to  be  afraid.  Then  I  remember 
no  more  until  I  came  here  Avith  you." 

Maia  let  her  wreath  fall,  and  her  bright  eyes 
filled  with  tears.  She  rose  and  laid  her  little 
coaxing  hands  in  his — 

"  Cleon,  dear  Cleon,  I  am  your  little  sister  now." 

He  took  her  in  his  arms,  and  seated  her  on  the 
pedestal  against  which  he  was  leaning. 

"  But  have  you  heard  of  them  since,  Cleon  ?" 
she  asked. 

"Never,  Maia." 

"  And  you  do  not  know  at  all  vrhere  they  arc 
— or  what  is  become  of  them  ?" 

"Some  people  say  there  is  a  hajipy  world  for 
the  good  when  they  die — but  I  do  not  know,"  he 
said,  gloomily. 

"  But  I  do,  Cleon,"  interposed  the  little  girl, 
undoubtingly.  "Nurse  says  there  are  green 
fields  and  flowersrardens  where  my  mother  is, 
whom  I  never  saw." 

"  And  every  one  glides  about  pale  and  cold  and 
restless,  and  talks  of  what  has  been,  and  can  not 


10  A    TALE    OF   THE    EGYPTIAN    CUURCU 

be  brought  back  again.  Oh,  do  not  let  us  talk 
of  it,  Maia !  It  is  not  home — it  is  not  life — they 
can  not  love,  and  work,  and  fight  as  we  do;  what 
joy  can  there  be  for  the  dead?" 

Maia  was  silent  for  a  moment ;  then  she  said 
— "  No,  do  not  let  us  talk  of  that.  Tell  me  about 
the  sun-god,  and  the  happy  nymphs  in  the  streams 
and  the  woods,  and  under  the  sea — and  the  dear, 
kind  moon — those  are  the  gods  I  love,  Cleon ; 
talk  to  me  of  them,  and  I  will  finish  this  crown 
and  give  it  to  Apollo  to-morrow.  Perhaps,  as  a 
reward,  he  will  send  a  wai-m  sunbeam  down  to 
your  mother  iu  the  fields  of  the  dead." 

Cleon  smiled  incredulously,  but  he  complied 
with  her  request,  until  Caius  Sertorius  awoke 
and  came  down  to  join  his  darling. 

"  O  father !"  she  exclaimed,  "  Cleon  has  been 
telling  me  such  wonderful  stories  about  the  gods 
and  goddesses !" 

"  It  is  time  Cleon  should  be  doing  something 
better  than  telling  stories  to  children,"  remarked 
Sertorius  gravely. 

Cleon  bit  his  lip,  and  Maia  colored  and  pleaded 
— "  But  he  has  been  so  busy  all  day  at  the  school 
in  Alexandria — and  the  masters,  you  know,  told 
you  the  other  day  he  might  be  a  philosopher  if 
he  liked." 

The  old  Roman  had  no  great  respect  for  school- 
masters, and  no  very  clear  distinction  in  his  mind 
between  thinking  and  dreaming — intellectual  la- 
bor being  to  him  little  better  than  a  kind  of  busy 


IN  THE   THIRD   CENTURY.  11 

idleness,  very  well  for  Greeks  and  slaves,  but 
totally  beneath  men  who  might  rise  to  distinction 
in  the  state. 

"There  is  no  philosophy  worth  having,"  he 
said  gruffly,  "  but  the  philosophy  which  Avill 
make  a  man  bear  pain  and  meet  death  bravely ; 
and  that  is  soon  learnt  by  a  stout  heart.  Bear 
nothing  you  can  avoid,  murmur  at  nothing  you 
can  not — that  is  a  soldier's  philosophy.  Cleon 
must  do  something  better  than  split  hairs  with 
the  Jews  and  Platonists  of  Alexandria." 

Maia  was  silenced  for  the  time ;  but  when  her 
father  sat  at  his  light  meal  of  honey  and  bread 
and  fruit  that  evening,  with  his  little  girl  beside 
him,  to  amuse  him  with  her  prattle,  she  recurred 
to  the  conversation  of  the  afternoon,  and  pro- 
pounded to  him  Clcon's  theological  difficulty 
about  the  relative  merits  of  the  quarrel  between 
the  gods  and  Titans. 

The  old  Roman  was  no  theologian,  but  he  was 
a  devout  believer  in  his  country's  gods — or,  at 
least,  a  devout  believer  in  the  expediency  of  up- 
holding them — and  he  was  proportionately  horri-. 
fied  at  the  presumption  of  tlie  inquiry. 

"  The  gods  of  Rome  are  strong  and  wise,"  he 
said,  "  and  do  what  they  think  right.  They  are 
the  friends  of  the  brave ;  they  help  those  who 
help  themselves."  Then  a  pause  ensued,  after 
Avhich  Mala  was  despatched  to  bed,  with  an  in- 
junction to  make  on  offering  on  the  morrow  in 
the  Temple  of  Jupitier. 


12  A   TALE    OF    THE    EGYPTIAN    CIIUECH 

But  the  question  she  had  started  hastened  the 
settlement  of  Cleon's  fate.  "  Those  Greeks  can 
never  he  quiet ;  they  can  not  even  let  the  gods 
alone.  If  care  is  not  taken,  that  boy  will  be 
turning  Christian,  like  his  sister  Alee.  But  that 
shall  never  be — by  all  the  gods  of  the  Capitol ! — 
the  lad  is  too  noble  for  that.  He  shall  go  oiF  to 
the  wars  in  the  North  to-morrow." 

Cleon  was  summoned,  and,  in  a  laconic  confe- 
rence, told  of  his  destination.  The  old  man  gave 
the  accustomed  kiss  to  his  child  in  her  little  bed 
— for  she  had  no  mother ;  and  at  an  early  hour 
the  family  retired  to  rest. 

•  "Maia!"  exclaimed  Cleon  the  next  morning, 
bursting  joyfully  into  the  hall,  where  she  sat 
spinning  her  daily  task — Xurse  Julia  having  left 
her  for  a  few  minutes  alone — "  Maia !  I  am  to  be 
a  man  next  March ;  I  am  going  off  to  the  army 
to-morrow !" 

Maia  let  her  distaff  fall  on  her  knees,  but  she 
said  nothing. 

"  I  am  going  to  the  army  of  the  North,"  he 
continued,  "  where  the  great  Decius  commands ; 
they  say  he  is  the  bravest  general  Rome  has^:  and 
I  am  going  to  fight  against  the  barbarians,  whom 
my  i^eople  hate  as  much  as  yours ;  and,  Maia,  I 
will  bring  you  home  such  presents — bracelets  of 
gold,  and  necklaces  such  as  we  see  the  Gothic 
captives  wear;  think  of  your  Avearing  my  spoils, 
dear  Maia,  when  we  meet  again  !" 

Maia  had  resumed  her  distaff,  and  k.J  been 


to 


IN    THE    TIIIED    CKNTUKY  13 

Avorking  with  uniisunl  diligence  whilst  he  spoke, 
but  now  she  hid  her  face  in  her  liands,  and  burst 
into  tears.  He  tried  to  comfort  her — he  talked 
of  liis  great  hopes  and  projects — the  glory  he 
might  gain — the  trophies  he  would  bring  to  her; 
but  ]\Iaia  refused  to  be  comforted,  and  at  length 
she  dashed  away  her  distaff,  and  ran  from  the 
room. 

"  What  has  made  my  pet  cry  ?"  asked  Nurse, 
as  she  sat  sobbing  passionately  on  her  little  bed. 

"  Cleon,  Cleon  is  <2,oin2:  to  be  a  soldier !"'  she 
murmured,  hiding  her  lace  in  Nurse's  shoulder. 
Nurse  applied  her  usual  nursery  medicines  ; — he 
would  not  be  killed — he  Avould  come  back  on  a 
beautiful  horse — a  great  lord,  Avith  sla^'es  and 
treasures,  and  she  should  be  a  great  lady. 

"  It  is  not  that !"  said  Maia,  indignantly,  sud- 
denly stopping  her  tears ;  "  I  do  not  Avant  his 
necklaces  and  bracelets ;  I  do  not  care  for  his 
going  aAA\'iy — if  he  only  Avould  not  be  so  glad 
about  it !" 

"  Well,  I  Avould  be  glad  about  it  too,  if  I  Averc 
you,"  said  Nurse. 

Maia  thought  she  Avould  try ;  and,  thiuiks  to  her 
indignant  heroism,  and  a  game  of  plaA',  the  last 
eA'euing  Avith  Cleon  passed  meri'ily. 

But  the  next  morning,  Avhen  she  stole  out  alone 
into  the  garden,  and  found  the  little  ship  Cleon 
had  made  for  her  lying  on  the  steps  Avhere  lie  had 
played  Avith  her,  and  her  doll  beside  it,  she  felt 
as  if  tho  doll  Avas  tlio  only  friend  she  had  left  in 


14  A   TALE    OF   THE    EGYPTIAN    CHUKCH 

the  world,  and  hugged  it,  and  began  to  cry  bit- 
terly. Her  flither  found  her  there,  and  taking 
her  on  his  knee — 

"  Now,  be  a  brave  little  Roman  maiden,"  he 
said :  "  the  little  girls  of  old  Rome  used  to  cheer 
their  brothers,  and  sing  them  war-songs  when 
they  went  to  join  the  armies." 

Maia  felt  rather  angry  Avith  the  little  girls  of 
ancient  Rome,  and  the  sobs  did  not  stop.  Then 
Sertorins  spoke  of  the  glory  and  greatness  Cleon 
was  to  achieve.  The  sobs  only  came  f  ister.  The 
old  soldier  was  puzzled  sorely  what  line  of  con- 
solation to  adoi)t.  At  length  he  said  :  "  And  you 
shall  make  crowns  of  llowers  and  garlands,  and 
offer  thetn  to  the  gods  for  Cleon's  safe  return." 

"  Will  that  help  Clcon  ?"  she  asked. 

"  The  old  Romans  did  it,"  said  the  Stoic,  eva- 
sively, for  his  faith  in  the  hearing  of  the  gods 
was  not  very  strong. 

"Then  I  will  do  it,"  said  Maia,  drying  her 
tears.  And  between  tlie  idea  of  being  like  an 
old  Roman  matron,  and  the  thought  of  helping 
Cleon  with  the  gods,  and  the  lact  of  Cleon  him- 
self being  rather  cast  down  when  the  time  of 
parting  came,  the  child  contrived  to  take  leave 
of  her  old  playfellow,  in  a  way  that  might  not 
altogether  have  disgraced  a  playfellow  of  Brutus. 


m  THE   THIED   CENTUBT.  16 


CHAPTER  II. 

Had  all  the  to-morrows  which  were  to  intervene 
before  they  met  again  risen  before  Maia  as  she 
parted  from  her  phiyfellow,  lier  phiUosophy  would 
have  sunk  beneath  the  burden ;  but  happily,  life 
only  presents  us  with  a  series  of  to-days;  and  to 
Maia,  with  her  healthy  household  occupations 
and  her  happy  household  cares,  the  days  tripped 
lightly  on,  making  music  as  they  went ;  each,  as 
it  passed,  opening  for  her  some  fresh  flower. 

So  she  sat  in  the  shade  of  her  quiet  home, 
ministering  to  her  father  and  her  household,  and 
looked  out  thence  into  the  boundless,  unknown 
woi-ld,  and  listened  and  learned,  pondering  many 
things  in  her  heart — and  grew  silently  into  wom- 
anhood. 

With  Cleon,  the  training  and  the  result  had 
been  different.  The  world,  which  Avas  such  an 
imexplored  territory  to  Maia,  had  been  his  home 
and  his  teacher.  Northern  climates,  and  the 
rough  discipline  of  the  camp,  had  moulded  his 
frame  to  manly  strength ;  the  battles,  and  toils, 
and  tumults,  and  sudden  dangers,  and  perplexing 
hazards  of  continued  warfare,  had  braced  his  will 
2 


16     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHUECn 

and  nerved  his  mind  to  master  them.  Placed  in 
a  sphere  where  command  involved  peril  and  re- 
quired talent,  his  clear  foresight  and  ready  self- 
possession  had  early  earned  for  him  the  toils  and 
glories  of  military  rank. 

At  length,  however,  a  pause  in  the  war  set  him 
at  liberty  to  return  to  Alexandria. 

What  the  history  of  his  soul  had  been  mean- 
while, the  following  fragments  may  show : — 

EXTRACTS   PROM    CI.EOn's    DIARY. 

I  am  once  more  in  my  old  childish  home !  I 
write  in  the  portico  where  old  Caius  Sertorius 
used  to  rest  in  the  summer  evenings.  Before  me 
is  the  garden  where  IMaia  and  I  used  to  play  to- 
gether. 

The  trees  are  grown — Maia  must  he  grown. 
I  am  changed.  I  seem  to  have  lived  ages  since 
then.  I  wonder  if  she  has  changed  as  much !  She 
will  return  from  Italy  in  a  month. 

How  strange  it  is  to  come  back  to  old  places, 
and  find  nature  still  treading  the  same  quiet  round 
as  Avhen  we  left,  still  bringing  back  her  old  round 
of  seasons  and  liowers,  and  days  and  stars — and 
never  jretting  tired  of  them — ever  the  same,  and 
ever  new  ;  whilst  we  have  passed  through  seasons 
which  never  return; — we  always  advancing — she 
always  revolving;  and  yet  we,  vv'ith  all  our  pro- 
gress, never  getting  beyond  her  unvarying  circle. 
She  is  very  great. 

Is  she,  then,  the  mirror  of  the  Infinite,  or  only 


IX   THE   THIKD   CENTURY.  17 

the  veil  hemming  in  our  spirits  from  the  Infinite 
beyond  ?  What  Infinite  beyond  ?  If  a  veil — if 
this  outward  world,  and  this  mortal  life,  be  but 
a  veil— are  they  a  glittering  ice-crust  thrown  in 
pity  over  the  abyss  of  darkness,  or  a  shroud  of 
light  hiding  from  us  the  eternal  day  of  the  stars 
and  the  heavens  ? 

From  us  1  And  what  are  we  ?  Stars  in  the 
night  of  eternity,  or  bubbles  on  tlie  sea  of  time ! 
Are  tfe,  or  is  nature,  nearest  the  Supreme  ? 

These  guessing,  doubting,  trembling,  daring 
spirits  of  ours — we,  who  embrace  the  universe 
like  gods,  and  perish  in  the  dust  like  beasts — we, 
whose  thoughts  soar  to  infinity,  and  whose  hands 
can  not  make  a  flower ! — we,  who  can  kill  thou- 
sands.of  our  fellow-men,  yet  can  not  restore  a  dead 
insect  to  life — xdiat  are  xoe  ?  We  are  not  the  source 
of  life — it  is  elsewhere.  Where  ?  In  nature  ?  Life 
is  teeming,  overflowing,  flooding  around  us  every- 
where ;  myriads  of  new  living  beings  are  born 
every  day ;  where,  then,  is  the  spring  of  all  this 
life  which  flows  around  us  everywhere,  and  which 
we  can  nowhere  touch  '?  0  to  find  it,  and  bathe 
in  it !  But  what  is  life  ? — what  is  death  ?  Are 
they  not  forms  of  tlie  same  idea — phases  of  the 
same  existence — the  clothincj  and  unclotlfing  of 
God?  Life,  death,  sorrow,  joy,  love,  pain, — are 
they,  then,  all  shows  and  phantoms,  dreams  of  a 
summer  day  or  a  winter  night  ?  Are  we  ourselves 
drops  fallen  at  random  from  "  the  abyss  of  life," 

destined,  after  filtering  a  while  through  this  lower 
2* 


18     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

earth,  one  day  to  be  absorbed  into  it  again  ?  If 
this  be  so,  then  why  thus  fall  ?  Is  evei*ything  thus 
without  aim  and  without  meaning — a  mere  chaos 
of  confusion  ?  And  what  is  the  difference  between 
this  chaos  and  the  abyss  of  life  ?  I,  loving,  strug- 
gling, fearing,  hoping,  shcdl  die!  and  all  my  strug- 
gles, love,  joy,  fear,  and  hope,  die  with  me — then 
I  perish  too :  for  what  am  I  apart  from  them  ? 
Where  is  the  distinction  between  being  nothing, 
and  a  fragment  of  something  not  myself?  What 
is  such  immortality  better  than  annihilation  ? 

And  ^•irtue,  crime,  the  conflicts  and  victories 
of  noble  hearts,  the  crimes  of  base  natures,  the 
failures  of  weak  ones — have  they  all  no  end,  no 
meaning?  are  they  all  the  transitory  phases  of 
some  fragment  of  the  Godhead  ?  The  Godhead 
subject  to  suffering  and  crime!  how  can  tHis  be? 
— how  can  weakness  flow  from  strength,  and 
death  from  life  ? 

Are  there,  then,  as  they  say  in  the  East,  two 
sources  of  being  ? — two  forces  at  work  in  the  uni- 
verse— good  and  evil  ?  If  so,  which  is  the  stron- 
ger ? 

And  if  there  are  two  sources,  there  must  be 
two  ends.  To  which  does  nature  belong? — to 
which  do  v»'e  tend  ?  Is  this  earth,  and  are  our 
hearts,  the  battle-field  of  the  evil  and  the  good  ? 
Are  we,  like  nature,  a  mere  battle-field — or  ai'e 
we  ourselves  combatants  ?  If  so,  we  must  take 
our  part  in  the  conflict,  in  which  there  may  bo 
triumpli  or  defeat.  Of  the  two  ends,  and  the  two 


IN   THE   THIKD   CENTURY.  19 

powers,  we  may  choose  one.     But  what  is  our 
armor — what  our  plan  of  Avar  ? 

The  Stoics  say,  "  Renounce !"  Renounce  what? 
— Joy,  nature,  all  the  heart  delights  in !  What  is 
that  but  death  before  the  time  ? 

O  for  Vvj-ht !  O  for  some  one  whom  to  ask  for 
light  ?  I  have  sought  school  after  school  of  phi- 
losophy, but  none  of  them  can  satisfy.  Some  say 
the  desire  of  satisfaction  is  childish  ciuiosity,  in:i- 
patience,  crime  ;  that  the  end  of  life  is  to  endure. 
I  could  endure  much  for  an  end ;  but  to  live  to 
endure,  and  endure  to  live  ! — is  there  no  answer 
to  the  soul's  question  but  this  ? — no  employment 
for  all  tlie  quick  and  restless  foculties  of  body 
and  soul  but  this — to  do  no  harm? 

Then,  I  have  sought  to  drown  this  inward  strife 
in  outward  tumult — in  society,  battle,  adventure, 
and  daring  deeds.  There  is  excitement  and  con- 
tent for  all  the  faculties,  for  a  time  in  these.  But 
in  the  after-silence,  the  old  questions  come  back 
louder  than  evei- — To  ichat  end  is  all  tlm  ?  AVhat 
matters  it  to  me,  or  to  the  Avorld,  whether  the 
Goths  or  the  Romans  tread  down  the  nations — 
whether  the  crimes  of  barbarism,  or  of  corrupt 
civilization,  gain  the  upper  hand — whether  Philip 
the  Arabian,  or  Decius,  be  the  slave  of  the  Pre- 
torians  and  the  master  of  the  world  ?  To  what  end 
is  my  life?    I  ask — and  the  answer  never  comes ! 

The  project  of  Caius  Sertorius  had  not  suc- 
ceeded; the  old  question  of  the  origin  of  evil— 


20  A   TALE    OF   TUE    EGYPTIAN    CnURCII 

the  quarrel  betAveen  the  gods  and  Titans — was 
not  yet  settled,  nor  was  it  forgotten. 

Cleon  had  fought  man}^  battles,  and  gained 
many  honors — was  high  in  the  army  for  so  young 
a  man ;  but  one  conflict  remained  undecided :  one 
thing — tiie  one  thing — he  had  not  gained. 

"I  had  half  forgotten  my  promise,"  exclaimed 
Marcellinus,  a  young  military  friend  of  Cleon's 
as  they  were  idling,  one  day,  on  one  of  the  quays 
of  Alexandria,  "to  be  present  at  a  feast,  at  the 
house  of  the  rich  merchant  Papias.  We  must 
separate.  Or,  stay,  he  asked  me  the  other  day 
about  you,  and  begged  me  to.  bring  you  to  his 
house.  Will  you  come  ? — the  guests  Avill  not  be 
numerous." 

"  I  do  not  know  him ;  and  strangers  are  al- 
ways intruders  in  small  companies." 

"  Well — do  as  you  like ;  the  man  is  a  Chris- 
tian, but  he  is  no  fanatic,  and  he  gives  ad- 
mirable entertainments." 

Cleon  hesitated ;  but  curiosity  at  length  pre- 
vailed,  and  he  accompanied  his  friend.  He  had 
heard  much  of  the  Christians  during  his  former 
studies  at  Alexandria,  as  a  Jewish  sect  whose 
opinions  bore  some  resemblance  to  those  of  the 
new  Platonists,  with  an  admixture  of  some  new 
and  strange  superstition.  lie  had  heard  of  their 
sacred  books,  as  containing,  amid  much  incom- 
prehensible mysticism,  many  excellent  precepts. 
He  had  met  them  in  the  army,  and  on  journeys, 


IN   THE   TMIRD    CENTUKY.  21 

and  had,  on  two  or  three  occasions,  been  struck 
with  their  cnhii  endurance  of  taunts,  and  their 
steadfast  submission  to  any  suffering  rather  than 
pay  certain  honors  to  the  imperial  ensigns.  He 
knew,  also,  that  tliej-  had  a  firm  assurance  of  im- 
mortality, and  spoke  of  their  life  in  this  world 
as  merely  a  pilgrim's  journey;  and  he  was 
curious  to  see  if  this  belief  was  real — how  men 
lived  who  were  assured  of  an  endless  life  of  joy 
or  sorrow  hereafter. 

"Do  you  knov,"  many  of  these  Christians,  Mar- 
cellinus  ?"  he  asked,  on  the  way. 

"  No.  They  used  to  shun  the  society  of  those 
who  do  not  hold  their  peculiar  opinions :  and  be- 
sides,  they  are,  you  knov\',  for  the  most  part,  a 
poor  and  illiterate  set.  But  the  late  emperors 
have  been  so  tolerant,  that  they  ai-e  able  to  traffic, 
and  feast,  and  serve  in  the  armies  noAV,  like  other 
men,  and  some  of  them  can  enjoy  life  like  reason- 
able beings." 

"  They  believe  they  have  had  immortality  re- 
vealed to  them,  do  they  not?"  asked  Cleon. 

"  I  am  no  philosopher,"  was  the  reply,  "  and 
have  not  entered  into  their  peculiar  tenets ;  Papias 
never  obtrudes  them  on  his  guests,  and  he  gathers 
interesting  people  around  him,  and  entertains 
well ;  the  rest  is  his  concern,  not  mine.  They 
say  our  brave  emperor,  Decius,  hates  the  Chris- 
tians cordially,  and  intends  to  suppress  them;  if 
that  is  the  case,  either  I  shall  have  to  give  up 
Papias,  or  Papias  his  peculiarities.    I  know  lit- 


22  A   TALE    OF   THE   EGYPTIAN    CHURCH 

tie  of  them,  except  that  they  call  one  another 
brother^  and  believe  they  are  sure  of  some  Ely- 
sium when  they  die." 

They  had  now  reached  the  house.  Over  the 
inner  door  was  a  Greek  inscription  in  gold  letters 
— '■'•Here  ive  have  no  continuing  city ;  tve  seek  one 
to  come,  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God.''''  And 
beloAv — "  Our  citlzenshij)  is  in  heaven.""  The 
sublime  words  arrested  Cleon's  eye.  "  What 
manner  of  men,"  he  thought,  "  must  these  be  ? 
how  calmly  raised  above  all  the  storms  of  time, 
and  the  petty  perplexities  of  life,  assured  of  an 
endless  life  of  joy !" 

The  merchant  met  them  at  the  entrance  of  the 
hall,  and  greeted  Cleon  with  marked  courtesy. 
On  issuing  from  the  bath,  the  guests  were  pro- 
vided with  splendid  robes,  and  conducted  to  the 
dinino-.hall. 

Everything  was  arranged  as  customary  in  great 
Roman  houses.  The  conches,  placed  round  a 
semicircular  table,  were  richly  carved  and  adorned 
with  gold,  silver,  gems,  and  fragrant  woods,  and 
cushioned  wuth  silks,  and  fine  linen  of  rich  Syi-- 
ian  dyes.  Fair"  Spanish  slaves  crowned  the 
guests  with  garlands,  and  sprinkled  them  with 
costly  perfumes ;  all  kinds  of  Roman  delicacies 
succeeded  each  other  at  the  table ;  and  in  the  in- 
terv\als  of  conversation,  slaves  danced  to  the 
sound  of  soft  music.  The  air  was  fragrant  with 
aromatic  scents  from  India,  and  cooled  by  the 
play  of  fountains  in  the  court,  in  the  centre  of 


IN   THE   THIRD   CENTURY.  23 

the  house,  which  was  divided  from  the  hall  by  a 
silken  curtain.  The  walls  were  covered  with 
frescoes  by  Greek  artists. 

Some  few  peculiarities  Cleon  observed,  but  did 
not  object  to.  No  libations  Avere  oftered  before 
the  feast,  which  simply  implied  an  absence  of 
respect  to  the  popular  gods — nothing  being  sub- 
stituted for  them,  out  of  consideration  to  the  re- 
ligious ditferenccs  of  the  company.  There  were 
no  statues  to  the  gods  or  heroes.  The  cups  and 
vases  were  engraven  with  doves,  palm-branches, 
and  monograms,  instead  of  the  usual  heathen 
fables,  and  the  subjects  of  the  fi-escoes  were 
either  from  recent  Roman  history,  or  groups  of 
symbolic  figures,  which  Cleon  did  not  compre- 
hend, but  which,  as  a  resident  in  mystic  Egypt, 
exited  in  him  no  astonishment. 

The  conversation  was  animated  and  intelligent 
— political  changes  were  touched  on  lightly — 
commercial  prospects  were  discussed  eagerly — 
while  the  rising  inundation  of  the  Nile  (the 
"  weather"  of  Egypt)  was  the  subject  of  much 
speculation.  The  theatres  and  public  games  were 
avoided— out  of  compliment  to  the  supposed  pre- 
judices of  the  host — until  he  introduced  the  sub- 
ject by  mentioning  a  favorite  actor.  The  object 
of  Papias' seemed  to  be  to  avoid  all  suspicion  of 
peculiarity,  and  he  succeeded  admirably, — the 
whole  entertainment  being  as  easy  and  luxurious 
as  in  the  best  heathen  families.  Only,  from  time 
t<)  time,  the  words  rang  Btrangely  in  Cleon's  ears 


24  A   TALE    OF   THE   EGYPTIAN   CHURCH 

— "  Our  citizenship  is  in  heaven."  At  any  rate, 
the  naturalization  of  the  host  seemed  very  com- 
plete ;  there  was  nothing  in  his  mode  of  speaking 
or  living  to  betray  his  fatherland. 

When,  however,  the  slaves  withdrew,  Cleon 
expected  more  intimate  subjects  would  have  been 
introduced.  The  conversation  did  indeed  take  a 
more  philosophical  turn.  The  guests  were  of 
many  shades  of  opinion — a  Jewish  Platonist,  a 
Platonic  Jew,  a  Gnostic,  an  Eastern  merchant, 
and  Marcellinus,  who  was  of  the  "  getting  on" 
religion,  quite  tolerant  alike  of  truth  and  error; 
but  all  being  men  of  great  liberality,  Avho  wore 
their  opinions  as  ornaments  rather  than  girded 
them  on  as  armor,  these  differences  only  served 
to  give  a  refreshing  stir  and  coolness  to  the  at- 
mosphere. 

Of  course,  in  such  an  assembly,  earnest  words 
of  Christian  faith  would  have  been  altogether 
discordant,  as  deep  organ-tones  in  a  concert  of 
flutes.  Papias  was  far  too  polished  a  man  to 
Jiave  obtruded  them ;  besides,  his  faith  was  here- 
ditary. He  spoke  much  in  praise  of  Plato,  and 
compared  his  writings  with  the  Christian  Plato, 
John  of  Galilee — occasionally  alluding  to  some 
of  the  Christian  doctrines,  but  in  such  a  veil  of 
philosophical  terms  as  could  neither  offend  nor 
instruct  any  one.  He  spoke  of  the  Reason  or 
Word  of  God,  of  the  human  soul  as  an  emana- 
tion from  the  Higliest,  destined  to  return  to  it; 
rud  Cleou  listened,  and,  conohiding  Christianity 


IN    THE    TIIIKD    CENTURY.  25 

to  be  a  kind  of  modified  Platonism,  wondered 
why  it  should  be  persecuted  as  a  religio  illicita., 
and  not  rather  left  to  itself  as  a  philosophical 
sect.  As  he  sat  in  the  jilace  of  honor,  at  the 
centre  of  the  table,  on  the  right  hand  of  the  host, 
he  once,  when  the  conversation  had  swelled  into 
a  chorus,  expressed  something  of  this  wonder  to 
Papias. 

"You  see  the  government  does  not  imderstand 
US,"  was  the  reply.  "They  judge  from  certain 
ignorant  fanatics,  and  act  accordingly ;  but  they 
are  learning  to  knov\^  us  better,  and  for  many 
years  they  have  left  us  in  peace." 

"There  are,  then,  still  these  fonatics  amongst 
you?" 

"There  will  always.be  men  of  exaggerated 
and  distorted  piety  in  every  sect.  Spiritualism 
and  asceticism  are  matters  of  natural  constitu- 
tion: such  conformations  of  soul  are  the  natural 
curiosities  of  the  spiritual  world,  peculiar  to  no 
sect,  and  characteristic  of  no  faith." 

"  But,  may  I  ask,  are  those  words  I  saw  in- 
scribed in  gold  in  your  portico  from  your  sacred 
books — '  Our  citizenship  is  in  heaven''  V 

"  They  are ;  but  colonists  may  make  themselves 
at  home." 

"True,"  thought  Cleon,  "if  they  are  not  pa- 
triots!" But  he  said,  "You  have,  then,  among 
you,  men  who  keep  to  the  letter  of  this  rule  ?" 

"Yes,  as  there  are  mere  literalists  among  the 
Jews — men  of  exaggerated  entbusiasnij  or  men 


26     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CnUKCU 

of  mere  faith.,  vvho  liave  not  attriined  to  the 
wisdom  of  the  perfect." 

Cleon  looked  surprised:  "I  had  been  told 
your  sacred  doctrines  Avere  common  to  all.  You 
have,  then,  an  initiated  class." 

"There  are  certain  doctrines  common  to  all, 
but  the  poor  and  illiterate  can  not  be  expected  to 
attain  to  the  heights  of  ecstatic  contemplation. 
We  have  what  we  call  the  clergy  and  the  laity, 
the  philosopher  and  the  child.  For  myself,  I  am 
a  man  of  business,  but  I  intend  one  day  to  devote 
myself  to  these  things." 

"Where  do  your  philosophers  live?" 

"Dionysius,  our  bishop,  teaches  the  cate- 
chumens frequently  at  his  o^vn  house ;  we  have 
the  catechetical  school  where  Clement  arid  Oiigen 
once  lectured;  and  in  the  porticoes  and  on  the 
quays,  you  may  occasionally  meet  Avith  some  of 
ovir  teachers,  clad  and  surrounded  like  Socrates 
of  old." 

The  conversation  again  became  general,  and 
ere  long  the  guests  arose  and  departed. 

Papias  reflected  complacently  Avhen  the  feast 
Avas  over, — "At  all  events,  that  young  Greek 
officer  Avill  not  henceforth  conclude  that  vre  of  the 
Christian  Church  are  a  set  of  l)igots  and  fools." 

Cleon  reflected  mournfully  as  he  Avent  home — 
"After  all,  there  does  not  seem  so  much  distinc- 
tion betAveen  Christianity  and  other  philosophical 
systems ;  it  is  not,  then,  to  it  that  I  must  look 
for  any  Bolution  to  the  riddle  of  life." 


IN  TUE   THIRD   CKNTTJKY.  27 

Is  it  not  ever  thus?  The  Church  loses  her 
power  of  attraction  when  she  relinquishes  her  at- 
mosphere of  repulsion.  Tlie  profession  which 
will  not  oftend  the  careless,  can  not  teach  the 
earnest.  If  the  salt  have  lost  its  savor,  it  can 
not  heal  the  bitter  waters. 

On  the  steps  of  tlio  house,  as  Cleon  descended 
them,  a  lame  old  man  was  sitting,  as  if  in  expec- 
t:ition  of  something.  The  young  Greek  asked 
Avhat  ho  waited  for.  "  The  master  of  the  house," 
he  replied,  "  gives  me  food  from  time  to  time, 
for  I  am  disabled  from  working,  and  my  family 
are  many  and  young."  A  servant  came  out  as 
they  spoke,  bringing  with  him  a  basket  of  frag, 
nlents,  the  relics  of  the  sumptuous  feast.  "Have 
you  any  claim  on  the  rich  merchant,  then?" 
asked  Cleon  ;  "  are  you  a  client  or  a  relation  ?" 
"  No  claim,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  but  that  we 
are  brethren  in  the  Church  of  God." 

"  The  ties  of  brotherhood  can  not  be  very 
strong  in  a  family  in  which  one  brotlier  is  con- 
tent with  throwing  the  crumbs  of  his  superfluity 
to  another,"  thought  Cleon.  "I  suppose,  like 
other  things,  it  is  only  a  name." 


28     A  TALE  OF  TUK  EGYPTIAN  CHUECH 


CHAPTER  III. 

The  return  of  Cains  Sertorins  and  his  child  Avas 
delayed,  and  Cleon  resolved  to  set  forth  on  a 
tour  to  some  of  the  recesses  of  Egypt — the  soli- 
tudes then  beginning  to  be  peopled  with  ano- 
malous societies  of  solitaries,  the  ruins  of  reli- 
gions as  obsolete  to  him  as  to  us — the  beautiful, 
quiet  places  of  the  A'alley  of  the  Nile.  He  lin- 
gered some  days  with  the  sti'ange  Jewish  colony 
on  the  banks  of  the  lake  jMocris,  the  Therapeutic 
mystics — the  models,  probably,  of  the  monks 
who  afterwards  thronged  the  Thebaid. 

He  conversed  with  them  in  their  lonely  huts ; 
he  partook  of  their  evening  meal  of  bread  and 
salt  and  water,  taken  in  darkness  and  silence,  lest 
the  sun  should  be  polluted  by  witnessing  the 
nourishment  of  the  despised  body,  the  slave  of 
matter,  and  the  enemy  of  heaven  and  the  soul. 

And  on  the  Sabbath  he  saw  the  lonely  devotees, 
men  and  Avomen,  leave  their  solitary  cells,  and 
join  in  the  twilight  in  a  solcnin  mystic  dance,  to 
the  sound  of  wild  music. 


IN  THE   TIIIKD   CENTURY.  29 

It  Avas  a  strange  scene,  when  the  large  Eastern 
moon  came  out  shining  in  dim  streaks  on  the 
dewy  plain,  and  mirrored  in  long  Avavy  lines  of 
the  lake,  Avhen  the  birds  Avere  hushed  and  all  the 
stir  of  day  AA^as  over,  to  see  the  Avhite-robed  de- 
A'otees  steal  out  one  by  one  from  the  shadow"  of 
their  low  huts,  until  the  solitary  shore  was 
coA^ered  AAdth  hundreds  of  them.  Then  the  silence 
Avas  broken  by  the  slow  SAvell  of  a  monotonous 
chant  from  the  men,  answered  from  time  to  time 
by  the  clash  of  timbrels  and  other  Eastern  in- 
struments from  the  AA'omen,  rising  at  length,  like 
the  Avind  in  a  sudden  storm,  to  a  burst  of  AA^ld 
and  triumphant  song.  They  Avere  echoing,  after 
the  lapse  of  tAVO  thousand  years,  the  song  of 
triumph  their  fathers  had  sung  on  the  borders  of 
the  Ked  Sea — "  Sing  ye  to  JehoAah !  for  he  hath 
triumphed  gloriously;  the  horse  and  his  rider 
hath  he  thrown  into  the  sea." 

But  to  the  Theraputffi  this  song  had  a  deep 
symbolic  meaning.  The  old  national  faith  in  the 
living  God,  the  God  of  Abraham,  Isaac,  and  Ja- 
cob, Avas  gone,  and  Avith  it  the  expectation  of  a 
])Grsonal  jMessiah  ;  to  them  Egypt  probably  signi- 
fied the  enslaving  poAver  of  sense  and  material 
things,  the  deliverance  from  Avhich  they  sought 
by  this  life  of  renunciation  and  ascetic  solitude. 

It  Avill  easily  be  unterstood  hoAV  a  faith  like 
this  might  be  a  stepping-stone  to  Christianity — 
to  fiith  in  Him  Avho  has  delivered  us  from  the 
bondage   of   corruption,    and    borne    us   safely 


30     A  TALE  OF  TUE  EGYPTIAN  CHUECH 

through  the  Red  Sea  of  death  by  His  resurrec- 
tion ;  but,  unliappily,  devotees  such  as  these  were 
not  always  content  only  to  receive;  and  in  the 
false  spiritualism  of  sucli  imperfect  converts,  lay 
the  germ  of  more  than  one  of  the  corruptions 
which  subsequently  prevailed  in  Cliristendom. 

The  scene  and  the  symbols,  however,  made  a 
deep  impression  on  the  young  Platonist.  What 
could  this  voluntary  abandonment  of  all  the  joys 
of  life  mean,  if  the  beings  who  practiced  it  were 
not  immortal — if  the  world  in  which  it  was  prac- 
ticed was  all  good? 

Thus  musing  and  speculating,  ho  rambled  on 
through  the  broad  valley  of  the  Nile,  now  float- 
ing  up  the  stream  in  some  boat  bound  for  the 
quarries  of  Upper  Egypt,  now  falling  in  with 
some  caravan  of  "Ishmaelitish  merchants"  from 
the  East,  or  some  stray  party  of  Arab  horsemen  ; 
and  at  times  pursuing  his  way  alone  along  the 
tangled  banks  of  the  ri\er. 

It  was  a  wiUl  and  wonderful  journey  then  as 
now;  the  old  contest  between  the  river  and  the 
desert  resulting  in  the  same  singular  contact  of 
luxuriance  and  desolation,  the  same  marvellous 
conquest  of  man  over  nature,  and  of  time  over 
man.  Cities,  whose  shadows  were  like  tliose  of 
mountains,  silent  as  the  quarries  from  Avhich 
they  were  hewn ;  gigantic  single  columns,  -which 
seemed  as  if  they  could  only  have  been  uplieaved 
by  an  earthquake,  left  the  sole  relics  of  cities ; 
temples,  whose  worship  Avas  as  extinct   as   the 


IN  THE  THIRD   CENTURY.  31 

Avorsbipers ;  homes  and  busy  haunts  of  men, 
Avhose  domestic  music  now  was  the  scream  of 
wild  birds,  and  the  cry  of  the  jackal  and  hyena. 
When  had  this  transition  come  which  converted 
the  populous  place  into  a  waste?  Had  a  sudden 
destruction  come  upon  them,  emptying  hall  and 
temple  in  some  day  of  anguish?  or  had  the  curse 
of  slow  blight  fallen  on  them,  withering  them 
away,  and  leaving  some  "last  man"  the  sole  in- 
lieritor  of  a  thousand  desolate  homes,  the  sole 
priest  of  a  dying  religion  in  empty  temples  ? 

One  day  he  had  risen  early  to  linish  his  day's 
journey  in  the  cool  of  the  moi'ning.  Saddling  his 
horse,  he  bounded  swiftly  over  the  plain,  his 
heart  leaping  with  a  delicious  sense  of  freedom 
and  strength.  The  startled  birds  flew  whizzing 
and  wheeling  around  him  ;  flocks  of  the  purple 
Nile-goose  plunged,  splashing  and  beathing  their 
Avings  into  the  river ;  and  where  the  deep  drifts 
of  silvery  sand  encroached  on  tlie  living  verdure, 
a  bright  gazelle  vrould  cxcv  and  anon  start  from 
the  tangled  underwood,  and  bound  away  into  the 
desert.  Or  when  he  slackened  his  pace,  birds 
of  paradise  would  percli  on  the  myrtles  by  liis 
path,  and  ho  could  hear  the  contented  cooing  of 
turtle-doves  in  the  groves  of  flowering  acacia, 
and  see  the  bright  03^03  of  green  lizards  gleam 
amongst  the  countless  flowers  on  the  banks; 
while  the  aromatic  perfume  of  lemons,  citrons, 
and  oranges,  floated  through  the  clear  air,  and 
here  and  there  the  shafts  of  architectur;d.Iookin.g 


32     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

palm-trees  shot  up  from  the  lower  vegetation, 
Avith  their  capitals  of  leaves.  Everything  aromicl 
him  spoke  of  unwearied  aucl  salutaiy  power, 
every  faculty  of  every  creature  exercised  to  the 
full,  ill  the  fulness  of  life  and  enjoyment,  Cleon 
himself  felt  free  and  strong  as  any  amongst  them, 
— a  living  power  in  the  midst  of  life,  a  rejoicing 
being  in  the  midst  of  myriads  of  rejoicing  beings 
and  he  the  king  and  the  crown  of  them  all.  All 
perplexities  and  cares  seemed  blown  away  like 
mihealthy  exlialations  of  niglit  in  the  fragrant 
freshness  of  the  morning.  It  was  one  of  those 
moments  when  the  soul  seems  to  soar  above  the 
clouds,  and  on  the  clear  and  sunny  height  all 
earth-born  mists  float  beneath  it  like  silvery  veils, 
and  the  thunder-storms  of  lite  are  borne  up  to  it 
in  tones  of  music. 

Was  not  nature,  this  glorious  frame  of  outward 
things,  this  exulting  chorus  of  rejoicing  ci'eatures, 
the  holy  thing ;  and  man,  with  his  low  traffic  and 
fierce  strife,  the  spot  on  her  unsullied  vesture,  the 
unholy  thing?  Was  not  this  material  world, 
after  all,  nearer  God  than  we  ? 

The  shadow  of  a  gigantic  column  fell  upon  his 
path,  and,  looking  up,  he  found  himself  at  the 
entrance  of  a  ruined  city.  He  passed  silently  by 
the  silent  portals,  and  leaping  from  his  horse, 
left  it  to  graze  in  the  court  of  a  deserted  temple. 

As  he  lay  resting  on  the  grass,  he  saw  a  dark 
robe  moving  in  and  out  amongst  a  distant  avenue 
of  columns.     In  the  desert  the  ties  of  common 


IN   Tni3   THIRD   CENTURY.  33 

humanity  are  drawn  tight,  and  Cleon  hastened  to 
greet  the  stranger.  He  was  an  old  man,  and  i*e- 
turned  liis  greeting  with  a  prayer — "God  be  with 
thee,  my  son,  and  Ilis  peace !" 

Cleon  concluded  him  to  be  one  of  the  mystic 
solitaries,  who  were  no  new  phenomenon  to  him ; 
but  the  wan  yet  dignified  face  of  the  old  man, 
and  the  contrast  between  his  keen  eye  and  his 
subdued  mien,  interested  him. 

"  Age  needs  care  and  comfort,"  he  said  ;  "  you 
can  not  find  these  here." 

"  I  came  liither  to  avoid  them,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Has  life,  then,  no  charms  for  you  ?" 

"  Too  many.  I  dashed  the  cup  from  me  when 
it  Avas  sweetest,  and  because  it  was  sweet.  I  am 
a  follower  of  Hhu  Avho  died  upon  the  cross :  only 
through  crucifixion  can  we  follow  Him." 

"  You  believe,  then,  that  nature  is  only  beauti- 
ful to  seduce :" 

"  Xo,  the  Avorld  is  good — God  made  it — but 
we  are  evil." 

"  You  believe,  then,  that  the  body  is  the  enemy 
of  the  soul  r 

"  We  are  oui-  own  enemies — body,  soul,  mind, 
all  are  corrupt." 

"  Then  what  escape  is  there  for  us  ?" 

"In  renunciation  of  the  world,  and  contempla- 
tion of  the  Supreme.  In  looking  on  Him,  we 
learn  to  love  Him :  in  loving  Him,  we  lose  our- 
selves," 

"  But  2chat  must  we  i-cnouuce  ?" 


34  A   TALE    OF   THE   EGYPTIAN   CHUECH 

^^AU — love,  joy,  hope,  fear — all  that  makes  life, 
life ;  always  bearing  about  in  the  body  the  dying 
of  the  Lord  Jesns,  that  hereafter  His  life  may  be 
manifested  in  our  body." 

•'  Did  God,  then,  make  us  evil  ?" 

"  No;  man  fell  from  the  image  of  God  in  which 
he  was  made.  God  is  holy,  man  is  sinful.  Only 
by  renouncing  self  can  we  be  reunited  to  God." 

Cleon  paused.     "  This  is  terrible !" 

"  True.     Flesh  and  blood  can  not  endure  it." 

"  But  how  fly  self?  I  am  as  much  myself  in 
the  desert  as  in  the  Forum :  nay  more,  self  ex- 
pands like  air  to  fill  the  vacuum." 

"  In  the  desert  Ave  are  alone  with  God.  Here 
amidst  the  ruins  of  men's  works,  and  the  desola- 
tion of  men's  homes,  I  learn,  in  the  littleness  of 
humanity,  to  trample  on  mysell^ — in  the  ruins  of 
time  to  trace  the  footsteps  of  eternity,  and  to 
adore  the  majesty  of  the  Eternal." 

"  But  it  is  awful,"  said  Cleon,  shuddering  in- 
wardly, "  for  the  evil  thing  to  be  alone  Avith  the 
Holy  One — for  the  dust  to  be  face  to  face  with 
the  Almighty  !  The  throng  of  men  were  surely 
better  than  such  solitude  ?" 

"  The  multitude  of  men,"  replied  the  solitary, 
"  are  but  dust  and  sin  like  mvself ;  one  breath 
from  the  furnace  of  Heaven  could  melt  them  all 
to  ashes ;  but  there  is  One  between  me  and 
God." 

"  Who  is  He  ?"  asked  Cleon,  in  a  low  voice. 

"  It  is  He  who  is  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Son 


IN   THE    THIRD    CENTURY.  35 

of  man,  holy  as  tbe  Holy  One,  yet  made  of  one 
nature  with  us." 

Two  ov  three  days  Cleon  remained  in  that 
ruined  city,  liearuip;  and  questioning  the  hermit. 
He  left  it  then  full  of  new  and  wonderful  thoughts. 
Light  had  entered  into  his  soul — a  veiled  light, 
indeed,  still  struggling  with  thick  darkness — but 
nevertheless  it  was  a  gleam  of  the  light  which 
giveth  life. 

The  hermit  could  not  teach  him  Christianity  as 
St.  Paul  or  St.  Peter  taught  it ;  he  knev/  little  of 
the  fircK^e  of  God,  very  little  of  the  reconciliation 
it  has  made  for  man  ;  yet  Cleon  returned  through 
the  valley  of  the  Kile  with  other  tlioughts  than 
those  with  which  ho  h;vd  traversed  it  before,  for 
he  had  learned  to  believe  in  a  living,  personal, 
fipealcwf/,  and  hearing  God — whose  image  is  to 
be  found  most  truly  in  no  "abyss  of  life,"  or 
A'ague  sea  of  existence,  but  in  the  loving  lieart 
and  the  seeing  intellect  of  man.  He  believed  in 
the  existence  of  evil  as  no  mere  attribute  of 
matter,  no  transitory  stain  on  the  creation,  no 
necessary  eclipse  in  the  phases  of  the  light  of 
heaven;  Ijut  as  sin — the  plague  of  the  Iieai't  of 
man,  and  of  his  own  responsible  nature.  He  be- 
lieved man  to  be  f  illen  from  the  holy  image  in 
which  he  was  made,  tempted  by  one  v/ho  had 
fallen  before  from  a  greater  height ;  alienate  from 
God,  and  having  in  liim  the  tlnng  God  can  not 
tolerate.  And  dimly,  as  it  were  through  a  con- 
fused chaos  of  sights  and  sounds,  he  saw  some- 


36  A    TALE    OF   THE    EGYPTIAN    CHURCH 

thing  of  One  standing  between  the  sinner  and 
the  Holy  One,  who,  in  some  mysterious  manner, 
■was  to  be  the  Way  of  restoration  to  l>im, — a  pain- 
ful way  it  must  be,  full  of  terror  and  conflict,  and 
pain  and  peril — a  way  of  sorrow  and  death,  to  be 
trodden  with  weary  feet,  bowed  beneath  heavy 
burdens ;  but  still,  for  one  bewildered  and  lost 
as  he  had  been,  it  was  much — we  can  scarcely 
conceive  hovv'  much — to  know  tliat  there  Avas  a 
living,  personal  God,  and  a  way  by  wliidi  man 
might  reach  Him. 


IN   THE   THIED   CENTURY  37 


CHAPTER  IV. 

The  time  at  length  came  when  Cleon  could  settle 
the  question  whether  Maia  were  as  much  changed 
as  himself. 

She  met  him  in  the  old  garden,  as  joyous  and 
fresh  and  beautiful  as  ever.  She  sang  him  the 
old  songs,  they  laughed  together  over  their  old 
quarrels,  and  chatted  over  their  old  confidences — 
and  many  new  ones.  She  seemed  in  all  respects 
what  she  had  been — a  stranger  might  have 
marked  no  difference  in  their  intercourse  ;  but  a 
reverence  had  sprung  up  between  them,  which, 
added  to  the  old  brotherly  affection  of  their  child- 
hood, grew  naturally  into  a  deep  and  sacred  love. 
She  was  his  childish  playmate  with  a  sacred  halo 
around  her.  Had  Maia  indeed  met  with  the  fate 
she  dreaded— been  loved  by  the  gods,  and  made 
a  star  in  the  heavens— he  could  not  have  looked 
on  her  with  a  deeper  reverence  ;  but  now  his  hap- 
piness  was,  that  she  was  no  divine  star  at  all,  but 
a  bright  and  gentle  girl,  leaning  on  his  love,  and 
depending  on  his  care. 
4 


38     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

And  old  Caius  Sertorius  had  speculated  on 
something  of  the  Idad,  and  seemed  to  find  his 
youth  ]-enewed  in  theirs.  And  nurse  Julia  was 
satisfied. 

So  Cleon  and  Maia  were  betrothed. 

And  for  a  time  the  Avorld  became  for  him  a 
temple  dedicated  to  her — a  heaven  illuminated 
by  her — holy  with  her  presence — warm  with  her 
smile — musical  with  hei*  voice. 

Had  his  invvard  conflicts  been  mere  unhealthy 
exhalations  of  night,  they  must  have  vanished  in 
such  a  sunshine.  But  they  did  not.  At  times 
the  presence  of  an  awful  power  would  overshadow 
him  even  as  he  listened  to  her,  and  chill  his  heart ; 
but  as  men  always  will  do  with  any  faith  which 
gives  more  shadow  than  light,  he  sought  to  fly 
from  the  chilling  consciousness.  He  wondered 
Avhether  Maia  ever  felt  anything  of  the  kind.  If 
her  soul  vraslike  his — if  God  was  the  same  to  her 
as  to  him — she  must.  But  Avas  she  the  same  ? 
Could  thefe  be  a  stain  on  a  heart  ojien  and  pure 
as  hers — a  heart  which  poured  out  all  its  depths 
to  him,  and  in  all  its  overflowings  never  over- 
flowed with  anything  but  love  and  goodness  ? 

The  summer  and  the  inundation  of  the  Xile 
had  just  ])assed  their  climax.  Alexandria  was 
converted  for  the  time  into  a  city  of  the  ocean — 
Egypt  into  an  archipelago  of  luxuriant  islands. 
Everywhere  tlie  flood  of  light  met  and  glowed  in 
the  flood  of  waters.  Earth  was  azure  as  heaven ; 
and   for  her  stars,  green  islands,   clothed  with 


IX   THE   TinUD    CENTURY.  39 

acacias  and  palms,  and  wliite  temples,  gleamed 
forth  from  the  blue  depths.  The  streets  of  palaces 
were  mirrored  in  tb.e  smooth  waters,  which 
plashed  idly  against  the  marble  steps ;  and  in  and 
out  of  the  streets,  and  through  triumphal  arches 
of  flowers,  and  close  to  the  doors  of  houses,  glided 
garlanded  boats,  full  of  people  keeping  holiday : 
for  the  Nile  had  been  propitious  this  year.  The 
gods  of  Egypt  had  blessed  her  fields  abundantly, 
and  the  people  were  thronging  into  their  temples 
to  give  them  thanks  and  pay  them  homage. 

The  day's  work  of  busy  Alexandria  was  at  an 
end.  The  murmur  of  recreation  had  succeeded 
to  the  hum  of  business  ;  and  in  wooded  islands, 
in  temple  courts,  and  on  palace  steps,  the  various 
inhabitants  were  gathered,  amusing  themselves 
with  luxurious  indolence  or  energetic  vivacity,  as 
national  or  individual  temper  might  dictate. 

The  porch  of  one  of  the  temples  was  thronged 
with  idlers  of  all  descriptions.  At  one  end,  a 
Stoic  philosopher  lectured  on  apathy,  to  an 
audience  sufiiciently  apathetic ;  at  another,  a 
knot  of  young  Syrian  dandies  stood  amusing 
themselves  with  comments  on  the  passers-by ; 
Asiatic  merchants  lay  on  benches,  indolently  sur- 
veying the  world  with  lialf-closed  eyes ;  Greeks 
paced  up  and  down,  discussing  novelties  in  art  or 
literature,  in  the  language  and  with  the  vehemence 
of  Homer's  heroes— their  eager,  classical  faces 
and  Avhite  dresses  glancing  in  and  out  of  the 
shadow  of  the  columns ;  Romans  stood  in  groups 


40  A   TALE    OF   THE    EGYPTIAN   CHURCH 

of  twos  and  threes,  discoursing  on  the  politics  of 
the  empire,  with  the  gravity  of  men  whose  busi- 
ness it  was  to  govern  the  Avorld.  All  nations  Avere 
there,  all  costumes,  all  languages — an  index  to 
the  contents  of  the  swarming  city,  the  smelting- 
farnace  of  that  age  effusion. 

Cleon  stood  alone,  leaning  against  a  pillar,  his 
eyes  fixed  on  the  water,  which  had  for  the  time 
converted  the  street  leading  to  the  temple  into  a 
canal.  He  was  waiting  for  the  approach  of  a 
religious  procession,  in  Avhich  Maia  was  to  take  a 
part.  At  length  the  first  boat  turned  the  corner 
of  the  next  street.  The  procession  glided  on,  to 
the  sound  of  soft  music,  and  reached  the  steps  of 
the  temple. 

Then  the  troop  of  boys  and  maidens  disem- 
barked, bearing  baskets  of  fruits  and  flowers  on 
their  heads  and  in  their  arms,  with  priests  leading 
white  oxen  for  the  sacrifice.  They  entered  the 
temple  chanting  hymns  of  thanksgiving,  their 
rich  southern  voices  now  rising  in  clear  jets  of 
melody,  then  bursting  into  exulting  choruses, 
Avhilst  the  surrounding  crowd,  from  time  to  time, 
enthusiastically  echoed  the  refrain.  It  Avas  the 
natural  overfloAV  of  hearts  full  of  joy  at  the  abun- 
dance of  the  earth. 

Cleon  was  borne  aAvay  by  the  tide  of  enthu- 
siasm. Was  not  this,  he  thought,  the  ideal  of  the 
old  Greek  religion — childhood  the  priesthood  of 
humanity — beauty  and  art  ministering  between 
man  and  God  ?     Was  not  this,  after  all,  the  true 


IN    THE    THIRD    CENTURY,  41 

religion — this  fresli,  grateful  joy  in  life  ?  Did  not 
the  trne  wisdom  dwell  with  childlike  hearts  like 
Maia's,  and  Avith  the  hearts  of  all  men  Avhen 
emotion  had  opened  them  and  made  them  child- 
like ?  And  was  not  that  terrible  sense  of  discord 
and  sin  and  judgment  under  which  he  had 
writhed,  the  mere  phantom  of  a  diseased  imagi- 
nation, the  disturbed  dream  of  an  overworked 
and  overtired  reason  ? 

Life,  not  death — enjoyment,  not  renunciation — 
were  not  these  the  true  offerings  for  the  Living 
and  Rejoicing  One  V 

Was  there  no  alternative  but  life  without  God, 
or  God  without  life '?  Was  not  the  joyous  instinct 
of  the  cliild's  heart  true,  spiritual  health — the 
self-torture  of  the  ascetic,  the  disease  ? 

With  thoughts  and  feelings  like  these,  he  seated 
himself  beside  Maia  in  the  little  boat  which  Avas 
to  bear  them  to  her  father's  house. 

The  whole  procession  reunited  at  the  Adlla  of 
Sertorius,  and  the  dance  and  the  feasting  lasted 
beyond  midnight.  Colored  lamps  were  suspend- 
ed ainojigst  the  vine-leaves,  and  the  Avhole 
festival  was  joyous  and  beautiful  as  glorious 
moonlight,  and  an  Eastern  garden,  and  nurse 
Julia's  choicest  fruits  and  confects  arranged  by 
Maia's  taste,  and  the  happy  voices  of  children, 
could  make  it. 

At  length  the  guests  separated,  to  return  to 
theii-  several  homes,  and  Cleon  and  Maia  stood 
on  the  terrace  watching  the  boats  with  their 
4* 


4'J  A    TALE    OF   THE    EGYPTIAN    CHURCH 

lam2:)S  glide  away  like  fire-flies  amongst  the  illumi- 
nated groves,  and  listening  to  the  sound  of  soft 
laughter  as  it  floated  over  the  water. 

The  last  hoat  had  passed  out  of  sig'iit,  the  last 
voice  died  away,  the  large  lustrous  moon  was 
filling  the  depths  of  heaven  Avith  her  glory,  and 
coming  down  with  silvery  feet  over  the  waters 
to  where  they  stood.  With  snov/y  fingers  she 
touched  tlie  temples,  and  changed  them  into  the 
softest  alabaster,  silvering  the  feathery  crowns 
of  tlie  palm-trees.  It  was  a  second  day,  but  day 
with  the  repose  and  the  mibroken  stillness  of 
night — such  a  light  as  might  have  harmonized 
with  the  songs  of  angels  as  once  they  transpierced 
the  silence,  and  sang — "Glory  to  God  in  the 
highest,  and  on  earth  peace." 

"How good  it  all  is,  Cleon  !"  murmured Maia ; 
*'  how  the  gods  must  love  the  world  and  us  !" 

"The  next  feast  will  be  our  marriage-feast, 
Maia — a  festival  to  last  through  all  our  lives." 

Ilis  boat  struck  against  (he  steps  as  he  spoke, 
and  hastily  taking  leave  of  her,  he  sprang  into  it, 
and  was  soon  out  of  siirht. 

On  the  morrow  she  was  to  accompany  her 
father  on  a  government  embassy  into  Upper 
Egypt,  and  on  their  return  they  were  to  be  married. 
"And  everything  i^liaU  be  good  to  her,"  he 
thought,  "for  ever.  I  will  stand  between  hei 
and  every  sorrow.  The  conflict  and  evil  that 
have  reached  my  heart  I  will  bear  alone ;  they 
bhall  never  come  uear  that  pure  and  happy  soul.'' 


IN  THE   THIRD   CENTUKY.  43 

In  the  strength  of  his  love,  he  felt  so  strong  to 
defend  her- 

The  moon  had  set ;  and,  real  and  solemn  as  the 
armies  of  stars  which  day  hides,  came  upon  him 
the  voice  which  day  had  hushed— the  voice  of  an 
imcalmed  conscience  and  the  awful  consciousness 
of  God.  Everywhere  througliout  the  Infinity  he 
felt  surrounded  with  the  presence  of  the  All-holy 
and  the  Almighty — and  he  a  sinful  creature. 

Once  more  he  was  in  the  moral  universe,  a  res- 
ponsible being  before  the  all-searching  Eye,  a 
guilty  being  before  the  Judge.  Foi',  in  the  night, 
again  the  shadow  fell  upon  his  soul. 

Dreams  cast  no  such  shadows — 

What  cast  them  ? — 

Himself!  His  own  shadow  dimmed  the  world 
to  him,  for  his  face  was  turned  from  the  Sun.* 

The  part  of  the  city  in  which  he  lived  was  on 
high  ground,  raised  above  the  flood,  and  he  was 
glad  to  land  and  try  to  lull  the  restlessness  of  his 
heart  by  bodily  activity.  On  his  way  he  had  to 
pass  through  some  of  the  poorest  and  worst 
streets,  ■whence  sounds  of  riotous  mirth,  inter, 
spersed  with  angry  voices  and  passionate  threats, 
reached  him  from  time  to  time,  polluting  the  still 
night-ail'.  And  in  these  voices  he  must  recognize 
the  voice  of  his  kindred — the  echo  of  that  corrupt 
nature  within  him,  from  which  he  could  not  fly. 

*  „SBa6  le^r'  id)  bi^  toor  alien  2)tngen?'" 

SWod^tc    liter    ractnen     eignen     ©d^atten 
f  J)  r  t  n  g  e  n.  — Gotbe'*  GedkhtCf  240.  IL 


44    A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

As  he  passed  on,  the  sound  of  a  low,  distmct 
voice,  as  if  in  earnest  pleading,  arrested  him.  It 
came  from  a  Avretched  hnt,  run  up  against  the 
corner  house  of  an  alley,  apparently  the  last  ref- 
uge of  the  lowest  povert}'.  But  the  voice  Avas 
gentle  and  sweet  as  that  of  Maia  ;  there  was 
something  in  it  which  compelled  him  to  pause ; 
it  was  so  strange,  and  yet  so  familiar,  and  the 
words  were  those  of  his  own  eloquent,  native 
Greek.  The  door  of  the  hut  had  no  fastening, 
and  was  half  open.  He  stood  concealed  in  the 
shadow  of  the  projection  of  the  next  house,  and 
listened.  The  calm  voice  was  interrupted  by 
another,  weak  and  broken  as  that  of  a  dying  per- 
son, but  full  of  passionate  earnestness. 

"It  is  of  no  avail.  You  do  not  know  me ;  you 
never  can  know  the  depth  to  which  I  am  fallen. 
Blessings  on  you  for  your  words  of  pity ;  but  the 
same  heaven  could  never  hold  you  and  me !" 

Then  the  calm  voice  spoke  again  : — 

"  '  And  there  was  a  woman  in  the  city,  Avhich 
was  a  sinner ;  and  when  she  heard  that  Jesus  sat 
at  meat  in  the  Pharisee's  house,  she  came  and 
stood  at  his  feet  behind  him  weeping,  and  began 
to  wash  his  feet  with  tears,  and  to  AAipc  them 
with  the  hairs  of  her  head,  and  kissed  his  feet, 
and  anointed  them  Mith  the  ointment.'  That  was 
Jesus,  the  Holy  One  of  God." 

"  Did  He  suffer  it  ?" 

The  voice  continued — "  '  Now  when  the  Pha- 
risee  which  had   bidden  him   saw  it,  he  spake 


IJf  THE   THIRD   CENTURY.  45 

■vrithin  himself,  saying,  If  this  man  were  a 
prophet,  lie  would  know  who  and  what  manner 
of  woman  this  is  that  toucheth  him  :  for  she  is  a 
sinner.'     The  Pharisee  Avas  not  the  Holy  One." 

"  But  did  He  rebuke  her  ?"  it  Avas  asked, 
faintly. 

"  He  rebuked  the  Pharkee.  '  Jesus  answering, 
said,  Simon,  I  have  somethino:  to  sav  unto  thee. 
And  he  saith,  Master,  say  on.  There  was  a  certain 
creditor  which  had  two  debtors  :  the  one  owed 
him  five  hundred  pence,  and  the  other  fifty.  And 
when  they  had  nothing  to  pay' — (they  had  both 
nothing  to  2'><^y) — '  l^e  frankly  forgave  them  both. 
Tell  me,  therefore,  which  of  them  will  love  him 
most.  Simon  answered,  I  suppose  he  to  whom 
he  forgave  most.  And  he  said  unto  him.  Thou 
hast  rightly  judged.  And  he  turned  urdo  the 
tooman,  and  said  unto  Simon,  Seest  thou  this 
woman  ?  I  entered  into  thine  house,  thou  gavest 
me  no  water  for  my  feet :  but  she  hath  washed 
my  feet  with  tears,  and  wiped  them  with  the 
hairs  of  her  head.  Thou  gavest  me  no  kiss :  but 
this  woman  from  the  time  I  came  in  hath  not 
ceased  to  kiss  my  feet.  My  head  with  oil  thou 
didst  not  anoint,  but  she  hath  anointed  my  feet 
with  ointment.  Wherefore  I  say  unto  thee.  Her 
sins,  which  are  many,  are  forgiven  ;  for  she  loved 
much :  but  unto  whom  little  is  forgiven,  the  same 
loveth  little.  And  he  said  unto  her,  Thy  sins  are 
forgiven  thee.  And  they  that  sat  at  meat  with 
him  began  to  say  within  themselves,  Who  is  this 


46     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

that  forgiveth  sins  also  ?' — But  He  did  not  heed 
them;  there  was  but  one  who  understood  Him 
there,  and  to  her  He  said,  '  Thy  faith  hath  saved 
thee :  go  in  peace.' " 

"  Forgiven  ! — forgiven ! — peace !"  echoed  the 
voice  of  the  dying  woman,  now  broken  with 
sobs ;  "  but  I  can  not  come  to  Him  as  she  did ; 
if  I  dared,  I  can  not  anoint  His  feet,  and  bathe 
them  with  tears.  There  is  notliing  that  I  can  do 
for  Him." 

"  It  is  true,"  replied  the  other  voice,  in  the  ten- 
derest  accents  of  pity — "  you  have  nothing  toj^y^ 

"  Oh,  if  He  were  here  !  if  He  were  near !  If  I 
could  hear  His  voice,  and  know  He  would  not 
cast  me  out !" 

"  He  is  here — He  is  near,"  it  Avas  whispered ; 
"  and  He  has  done  more  to  show  you  His  willing- 
ness to  forgive,  than  ever  He  had  done  for  her. 
He  has  taken  on  Himself  all  you  deserA'ed.  He 
has  not  only  forgiven,  but  paid  the  debt.  He  has 
let  them  mock  Him,  and  put  Him  to  shame,  and 
crucify  Him.  He  has  died  for  you.  He  lives  to 
hear  you,  to  forgive,  to  give  you  His  peace. 
Will  you  reject  Him  V 

There  was  no  reply  but  broken  words  and  low 
sobs,  as  of  a  penitent  child,  weary  with  passion, 
on  the  bosom  of  its  mother.  The  weary  child 
of  sin  had  found  rest  on  the  breast  of  her  Father. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Tlien  the  calm  voice 
rose  once  more  in  prayer  and  thanksgiving ;  and 
as  the  speaker  rose  to  leave  the  hut,  Cleon  heard 


IN  THE   THIRD   CENTURY.  47 

fi-om  within,  again  and  again,  the  words,  "  Peace 
— peace — thy  sins  are  forgiven." 

At  length  the  door  opened,  and  a  lady  stepped 
softly  out  into  the  street.  When  she  had  left  the 
hilt,  Cleon  followed  her  at  a  little  distance,  to 
watch  that  no  harm  befell  her,  until  she  entered 
the  door  of  a  large  plain  house,  and  closed  it  after 
her.  He  marked  the  house,  and  resolved  to  visit 
it  on  the  morrow,  for  he  felt  that,  if  anywhere, 
the  power  of  God  and  the  secret  of  peace  were 
there.  He  had  heard  something  that  night 
which  seemed  to  make  an  oi^euing  for  him  out  of 
the  labyrinth  in  which  he  was  lost.  The  daylight 
gleamed  on  him  in  the  distance,  like  the  faint 
star  which  it  seems,  at  first,  to  one  emerging  from 
the  recesses  of  a  cavern. 

The  Holy  One,  because  holy,  able  to  touch, 
and  love,  and  forgive  the  sinner !  What  did  this 
mean  ?  What  wondrous  news  was  this  ?  Was 
it,  then,  meant  for  him?  Could  this  be  the 
doctrine  men  hated  so  ?  Surely  all  must  fall  at 
the  feet  of  such  a  Son  of  such  a  God !  Why, 
then,  was  He  thus  opposed  and  hated  ?  Then 
the  words  recurred  to  him,  "  The  Pharisee  de- 
spised the  sinner,  and  did  not  welcome  the  Holy 
One.  The  Pharisee,  shut  out  from  God  by  his 
self-imagined  righteousness,  and  from  men  by  his 
narrow  selfishness."  The  wonderful  truth  seized 
his  heart;  it  is  He  who  knows  what  sin  is,  and 
who  can  not  tolerate  it,  who  alone  can  pity  and 
receive  and  forij-ive  the  sinner. 


48  A   TALE    OF   THE    EGYPTIAN    CilUKCn 

When  he  reached  his  own  rooms,  he  sank  on 
his  knees  before  the  Compassionate  One,  Jesus 
the  Holy  One  of  God,  and  prayed — 

"  O  God,  I  am  not  tlie  Pharisee  ;  I  am  the 
sinner.  Wilt  Thou  receive  and  foi'give  me — 
even  me  ?" 

And  a  strange  peace  came  down  on  his  heart 
as  he  prayed,  from  the  place  of  peace  where  the 
Son  of  God,  having  put  away  our  sins,  pleads  for 
the  sinner — Pie  whose  blood  has  made  the  holy 
of  holies  the  throne  of  grace. 


IN   THE   THIRD   CENTURY.  49 


CHAPTER  V. 

Early  on  the  next  day,  Cleon  retraced  his  steps 
to  the  house  which  he  had  seen  the  lady  enter  on 
the  previous  night.  The  owner  of  it,  the  people 
told  him,  was  a  presbyter  of  the  church  of 
Alexandria. 

They  ushered  him  into  the  atrium.  The  mistress 
of  the  house  rose  from  amidst  her  maidens  to 
receive  him,  and  ask  his  pleasure.  Two  little 
children  clung  to  her  dress,  and,  in  a  further 
corner  of  the  room,  a  boy  of  about  fourteen  sat 
at  a  table,  with  his  back  to  them,  reading  so  in- 
tently that  he  did  not  notice  the  interruption. 

The  lady  was  not  young ;  her  face  had  a  calm, 
motherly  look,  and  her  whole  bearing  was,  like 
her  voice,  very  gentle  and  lowly,  but  dignified 
from  its  simplicity.  Cleon  begged  her  to  pardon 
this  abrupt  intrusion  of  a  stranger.  He  asked  if 
the  master  of  the  house  was  not  a  teacher  of  the 
Christians. 

"  You  would  see  my  husband  ?"  she  replied  ; 
"I  Avill  take  you  to  him." 


60  A  TALS    OF   THE    EGYPTIAN   CHUKCH 

As  she  led  the  way,  he  said,  "  My  errand  is  a 
simple  one,  yet  to  you  it  may  seem  strange.  I 
heard  your  Avords  at  the  hut  last  night,  and 
tracked  you  home."  . 

The  lady  started  slightly,  and  surveyed  him 
rather  anxiously;  there  had  been  rumors  of  a 
coming  jDersecution — could  she  be  betraying  her 
liusband  to  some  emissary  of  tlie  government  ? 
She  hesitated  for  an  instant — but  Cleon's  frank 
countenance  seemed  to  reassure  her,  and  she  pro- 
ceeded. 

They  entered  a  small  inner  room,  where  her 
husband  Avas  Avriting. 

"Isidore,"  said  his  Avife,  "I  bring  you  a 
stranger  Avho  has  a  message  for  you." 

"Nay,"  said  Cleon,  returning  his  courteous 
greeting,  "  I  have  no  message  for  you.  I  come 
to  know  if  you  have  none  for  me."  Then  turn- 
ing to  the  lady,  he  said,  "To  me  my  errand  is 
one  of  life  or  death.  If  you  or  your  husband  can 
teach  me  as  you  taught  that  poor  dying  creature 
yesterday,  do  so,  and  I  Avill  learn  like  a  child." 

The  lady  seemed  touched  by  his  earnest  tone. 
She  looked  at  him  long,  and  Avith  a  strange  in- 
terest, and,  Avhispering  something  in  her  hus- 
band's ear,  she  hastily  left  the  room.  i 

Cleon  Avas  now  left  alone  Avith  his  host.     The 
room  Avas  plainly,  but  not  barely,  furnished,  and 
opened   on  a  pleasant  court,  through  AA^hich  a  " 
stream  was  flowing. 

Isidore  had  passed  the  middle  age,  his  face 


IX   THE    TUIRD    CENTURY.  51 

was  fuvrowed,  and  his  hair  gray  ;  but  there  was 
a  kind  and  hapyy  light  in  his  eyes,  which  drew 
the  heart  to  him, 

Cleon,  with  his  arms  folded,  stood  before 
Isidore,  while  he  gradually  elicited  from  him  the 
history  of  his  spiritual  inquiries  and  conflicts. 

"The  Stoics,"  Cleon  said,  "preached  endur- 
ance as  a  fragment  of  the  great  All;  the  Pla- 
tonists  counseled  me  to  lose  self  in  mystic  con- 
templation of  the  moveless,  passionless  Source  of 
being ;  but  how  can  I  contemplate  or  love  the  in- 
conceivable ? — the  effoi't  must  end  in  madness,  or 
spiritual  paralysis.  Then,  from  the  East,  I  heard 
of  the  double  nature  of  all  things —  of  God  and 
Evil  the  forming  Spirit  and  formless  Matter,  and, 
perhaps,  a  deforming  Spirit,  marring  the  creation, 
and  the  soul.  Some  of  the  Jews  of  Alexandria, 
and  the  Theraputoe,  spoke  of  a  holy  God,  and  of 
certain  things  to  be  done  and  endured,  in  order 
to  propitiate  Him." 

"All  that,  the  Jews  could  teach  without  a 
temple  and  without  sacrifices,"  observed  Isidore. 

Then  Cleon  spoke  of  his  interview  with  the 
hermit  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile.  "  He  called 
himself  a  follower  of  the  Crucified,"  he  said, 
"  but  the  substance  of  his  lessons  was  much  the 
same  as  those  of  the  philosophers  and  the  Jews : 
'Renounce,  toil,  struggle,  seek  to  regain  the 
lost  presence  and  love  of  God' — save  that  he 
taught  His  living  personality,  showing  me, 
as    I    had    never   seen   it   before,    the    terrible 


52     A  TALK  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHUKCH 

trutli,  that  tlie  evil  which  mars  aucl  corrupts  the 
creation  is  bound  up  with  every  fibre  of  our 
complex  being — that  our  hearts  and  minds,  that 
ive  ou7'selves^  are  corrupt.  This  thought  has 
weighed  me  in  tlie  dust.  To  be  myself  a  stain 
and  a  defileineut  on  the  creation  of  God,  a  thing 
on  v.'hicli  His  eyes  can  not  bear  to  rest ; — gladly 
would  I  have  sought  the  shades  of  death,  could 
they  have  hidden  me — but  I  know  they  can  not. 
And,  last  night,  I  heard  words  which  seem  like 
the  dawning  of  a  hope.  The  hermit  spoke  of 
One  who  has  opened  a  Avay  back  to  God — your 
wife  spoke  of  Him  as  forgiving  sin,  and  making 
the  sinner  holy.  I  come  to  ask  if  you  know  this 
Avay,  and  if  you  will  show  it  me.  I  do  not  care 
what  torture,  and  strife,  and  weariness  there  may 
be  in  treading  it.,  if  only  you  can  shov/  me  a  way 
which  will  make  me  holy  in  the  end,  and  such  as 
God  can  love.     If  you  know  this,  tell  it  me." 

He  had  uttered  these  Avords  Avith  passionate 
rapidity,  and  now  stood  motionless,  his  dark  pene- 
trating eyes  fixed  on  Isidore,  awaiting  his  reply. 

The  Christian  paused  for  a  few  moments,  shad- 
ing his  forehead  Avith  his  hand ;  then  looking  up, 
and  meeting  Cleon's  gaze  Avitli  a  cordial  smile, 
he  said,  sloAvly  and  calmly — 

"  You  have  all  begun  at  the  Avrong  end.  You 
do  not  Avant  death,  but  hfe.  You  have  not  to  be- 
gin with  renouncing,  but  Avith  receiving.'''' 

"But  must  we  not  renounce  evil;  and  is  there 
not  evil  in  me  ?" 


IX   Xm:    TIIIKD    (  EXTUUY.  53 

"  You  will  probably  find  eiiougli  to  renounce 
by  and  by,"  replied  Isidore,  quietly — "we  all 
find  it  so ;  but  tliat  is  not  what  you  have  to  be- 
gin with.  Before  you  can  renounce,  you  must 
receive.  You  want  forgiveness,  you  want  lioli- 
ness,  you  want  life.  Your  renunciation,  to  be 
complete,  must  stop  short  of  nothing  but  the 
grave ;  for  your  whole  nature  is  corrupted  and 
estranged  from  the  Source  of  life.  You  do  not 
want  death,  but  ///t"." 
'  "  And  who,"  exclaimed  Cleon,  bitterly,  "  can 
present  me  with  a  second  life  ?" 

"  God  is  the  giver,''''  replied  Isidore,  solemnly  ; 
"  hitherto  you  have  only  thought  of  Him  as  the 
c/aiwier." 

"Kay,"  interrupted  Cleon,  "I  have  known 
Him  as  the  giver  long.  Has  He  not  given  us  this 
glorious  world?  Has  He  not  given  us  reascyn, 
light,  and  eyes,  our  hearts,  and  our  beloved  ones  ? 
And  have  I  not  lately  heard  that  He  has  given 
us  His  Son,  to  win  back  our  wandering  hearts  ? 
But  the  greatest  gift  of  His  goodness  is  the  bit- 
terest droj^  in  my  sorrow.  For,  for  all  His  gifts, 
I  have  retvn-ned  Him  worse  than  nothing — a  sin- 
ful nature,  a  selfish  life,  a  heart  which  turns  with 
joy  from  the  thought  of  Him,  to  worship  His 
creatures  or  His  gifts !" 

"Pardon  me,  but  you  have  never  yet  looked  on 
Him  simply  as  the  giver,"  continued  Isidore; 
"you  have  looked  on  Him  as  the  creditor, 
and  therefore  in  each  new  gift  of  His  you  only 


54  A   TALE    OF   THE    EGYPTIAN    CIIUECH 

see  an  addition  to  the  immeasurable  list  of  His 
claims." 

"Is  it  not  true  that  we  owe  Him  all?"  said 
Cleon, 

"Undoubtedly.  And  it  is  also  true  that  we 
have  nothing  to  j)ay.  Now,  I  ask  you  to  forget 
yourself  for  a  time  entirely,  and  listen  to  the  few 
words  I  have  to  say  to  you  about  God.  Our  re- 
ligion is  not  so  much  a  philosophy  as  a  history. 
That  is,  it  answers  the  perjDlexities  of  the  intel- 
lect and  the  heart — the  actual  perplexities,  aris- 
ing, not  from  a  diseased  organ  of  sight,  but  from 
actual  contradictions  and  discords  in  the  nature  of 
things — by  revealing  to  us  certain  actual  occur- 
rences. Now,  we  may  guess  at  abstract  truths, 
but  Ave  can  never  know  anything  of  facts,  except 
by  seeing  them  or  being  told  of  them.  The 
truths  of  our  religion  are  facts — facts  about  God, 
His  character.  His  acts.  His  relations  with  men. 
You  must  see  that  none  but  God  can  write  such 
a  history.  He  has  written  it.  Our  faith,  then, 
rests  simply  on  God's  history  of  a  wonderful 
series  of  facts.  Some  of  these  facts  you  know  al- 
ready,  but  of  one  you  know  nothing.  It  is  quite 
true  that  you  are  sinful,  and  that  God  is  holy  ; 
it  is  quite  true  that  He  has  claims  on  you  which 
you  can  never  meet :  but  you  have  not  yet 
learned  that  He  is  love ;  you  have  yet  to  learn 
that  He  comes  to  you,  not  as  the  creditor,  claim- 
ing his  just  due — not  as  the  proprietor,  requiring 
fruit  from  the  vineyard  which  he  has  dressed — 


IN  THE   THIRD   CENTUKY.  55 

but  as  the  king,  making  a  feast  for  his  son,  of 
which  he  invites  you,  a  rebel  and  a  beggar,  freely 
to  partake.  You  have  been  thinking  about  your- 
self and  your  poverty — God  is  thinking  of  hon- 
oring His  Son,  and  of  the  joy  of  filling  His 
heaven  with  holy  and  happy  beings.  I  want  you 
now  simj^ly  to  fix  your  eyes  on  Him  in  whom 
God  has  delighted  from  everlasting — on  Him 
through  whom  He  can  look  on  you  and  be  satisfied." 

So  saying,  he  rose  and  took  a  roll  of  manuscript 
from  a  cabinet,  and  Cleon  listened  with  close 
attention  as  he  read : — 

"  ''In  the  beginning  ivas  the  WORD,  and  the 
Wordivas  with  God,  and  the  Word  was  God.  The 
same  was  ifi  the  beginning  loith  God.  All  things 
were  made  by  hini' — made  perfectly  good,  made  in 
His  image.  '•In  him  teas  life,  and  the  life  was 
the  light  of  men.  And  the  light  shineth  in  dark- 
ness.'' The  light  in  which  men  were  created 
they  had  darkened — so  darkened,  by  sin  and 
unbelief,  that  when  the  light  shone  amongst 
them,  they  comprehended  it  not.  You  see  the 
contrast.  In  the  world,  nothing  but  darkness 
and  death — in  Him,  Hght  and  life.  Bnt  still  He 
did  not  give  up  His  gracious  purpose  of  enlight- 
ening man.  The  time  came  when  this  Eternal 
Life  would  manifest  itself.  '■The  Word  became  flesh, 
and  dwelt  among  us  (and  ice  beheld  his  glory,  the 
glory  as  of  the  Only  Begotten  of  the  Father ),fidl 
of  grace  and  tridh.^  The  light  was  manifested, 
not  z^  fire,  but  as  the  light-giver;  the  Sun  of 


66     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHUECH 

righteousness  arose,  not  to  scorch,  but  to  heal. 
He  came  to  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  in 
Him  the  glory  of  God  shone  as  ''grace  and  truth.'' 
They  beheld  Him  day  by  day — for  He  dwelt 
among  them  many  years,  teaching  in  their  streets 
and  talking  Avith  them  in  their  homes.  The 
Eternal  Wisdom — the  living  Son  of  God — took 
upon  Him  our  nature,  and  came  into  the  Avorld, 
■which  He  had  made,  as  a  little  child.  For  thirty 
years  they  knew  Him  only  as  the  lowly  and 
gracious  son  of  Mary ;  for  He  took  on  Hira  the 
form  of  a  servant,  and  lived  in  dependence  on 
God,  and  in  subjection  to  his  parents,  showing 
simply  all  that  man  should  have  been,  and  was 
not.  Men  loved  Him,  and  God  Avas  pleased  with 
Him.  But  the  time  came  for  the  light  to  mani- 
fest itself,  and,  by  shining,  to  manifest  also  the 
darkness.  He  arose  and  taught  the  people.  He 
told  them  of  the  claims  of  their  Creator  and 
their  Lord.  He  unveiled  to  them  their  lost  and 
sinful  state,  but  only  that  He  might  unveil  to 
the  sinner  the  heart  of  the  Father — the  depths 
of  pity  and  love  which  there  are  in  Plim  who 
had  send  His  Son  to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost. 
He  jjroved  the  truth  of  His  message,  chiefly  by 
the  power  which  came  with  His  words  and  His 
holy  life,  to  the  hearts  of  men ;  but  also  by 
many  wonderful  Avorks,  by  healing  the  sick, 
giving  sight  to  the  blind,  and  raising  the  dead. 
'■The  light  shineth  in  darkness,  a?id  the  dark7iess 
compreJiendxd  it  not.     He  came  unto  his  own^ 


IJSr   THE    THIKD    CKNTURY.  57 

and  his  own  received  him  not ;  hut  to  as  many  as 
received  him,  to  them  gave  he  potcer  to  becovie  the 
sons  of  God,  even  to  them  that  believe  in  his  name.'' 
Here  is  the  lost  link  supplied  between  the  dead 
find  the  livins;.  Those  who  receive  Jesus  receive 
life,  and  live — '•ivliich  loere  horn,  not  of  blood,  nor 
of  the  toill  of  man,  nor  of  the  toill  of  the  flesh, 
hut  of  God:''' 

"Truly,"  sdd  Cleon,  "this  history  must  be 
divine." 

"Some  believed  it  so,"  continued  Isidore,  "and 
believed  Him  to  be  the  Son  of  God.  These  Avere 
His  discii^les,  and  followed  Him  whithersoever 
He  went." 

"  I  would  have  I'eceived  Him — I  would  have 
believed  Him,"  said  Cleon. 

"I  have  more  to  tell  you  yet,"  replied  Isidore, 
liis  face  lighting  up  with  a  serious  joy.  "  Some 
received  Him,  but  the  greater  part  received 
Him  not ;  and  some  hated  Him,  and  tried  many 
limes  to  put  Him  to  death." 

"Why?"  interrupted  Cleon,  abruptly. 

"  Is  He  the  only  one,"  replied  Isidore,  gravely, 
"whom  men  have  put  to  death  because  He  was 
holier  than  they?  '■This  is  the  condemnation, 
that  light  is  come  into  the  world,  and  men  loved 
darkness  rather  than  light,  because  their  deeds 
were  evil.'  They  tried  many  times  to  put  Him 
to  death,  and  failed." 

"How  should  they  succeed?"  said  Cleon; 
"was  not  He  the  Life-?" 


68     A  TAXE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

"At  length  they  did  succeed,"  Isidore  rejoined. 
"The  chief  priests  and  rulers  sent  an  armed 
band,  who  took  Him,  and  led  Him  before  the 
High  Priest  and  the  Roman  Governor.  They 
found  no  fault  in  Him,  either  of  them,  though 
they  sought  hard  for  some  pretext — yet  they 
sentenced  Him  to  die  the  death  of  a  criminal." 

Cleon  seemed  for  a  moment  lost  in  thouglit ; 
then  his  eye  brightened,  and  he  said,  "I  think  I 
comprehend  it.  "What  is  death  to  the  sinless  ? 
His  death — if  indeed  He  died — must  have  been 
but  a  triumphant  entry  into  the  presence  of  God 
— the  joyful  crown  of  His  spotless  life!" 

"He  was  crucified  between  two  thieves.  The 
thought  of  death  was  agony  to  Him.  He  shrank 
from  it,  so  that  the  sweat  of  His  agonized 
expectation  was  as  great  drops  of  blood.  The 
scourging  and  the  nails,  and  the  long  agony  of 
the  cross,  drew  not  one  murmur  from  Him;  but 
there  was  one  thing  which  wrung  from  Him  on 
the  cross  an  irrepressible  cry  of  anguish.  Just 
before  He  died,  ''He  cried  ivith  a  loud  voice,  Mxj 
God.,  My  God,  ivhy  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ? '  " 

Cleon  fixed  his  eyes  earnestly  on  Isidore. 

^' What  does  this  mean?"  he  said.  "Is  not 
God  just?" 

"God  is  just,"  replied  Isidore,  solemnly,  "and 
because  He  is  just,  the  Son  of  God  died.  He  bore 
our  sins.  The  Lord  hath  laid  on  Him  the  ini- 
quities of  us  all." 

Cleon's  eyes  fell.  He  leaned  on  the  desk  before 


IN  THE   THIRD   CKNTURY.  59 

him,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  He 
could  not  speak.  At  length,  with  a  firm,  deep 
voice,  he  said — 

"Could  the  grave  hold  the  Deliverer?" 

"It  could  not,"  was  Isidore's  reply.  "The 
Lord  is  risen — the  sacrifice  is  accepted,  and  our 
sins  are  taken  away — buried  in  His  grave.  During 
forty  days,  He  appeared  at  intervals  to  hundreds 
of  His  disciples — the  witnesses  of  His  resurrec- 
tion. Now,  for  a  time,  the  heavens  have  received 
and  hide  Him;  and  we,  dead  unto  sin  and  alive 
unto  God  through  Him,  are  waiting  for  Him  to 
return  and  restore  all  thinirs." 

He  who  alone  can  reveal  the  Saviour  to  the 
sinner,  the  Teacher  and  the  Comforter,  had 
spoken  with  power  through  the  feeble  words  of 
Isidore.  After  a  pause,  Cleon  arose,  and  grasping 
the  hand  of  tlie  Christian,  said  slowly,  though 
with  a  low  and  broken  voice — "/  believe.  I  too 
receive  the  Crucified  for  ray  Lord." 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Isidore.  "  His  strength  shall 
sustain  you.  He  also  will  receive  you  as  His 
redeemed  disciple,  and  present  you  to  His  Father 
as  His  reconciled  and  ransomed  child." 

And  kneeling  doAvn,  he  prayed  aloud.  As  he 
called  on  God  as  the  Father,  and  gave  thanks, 
he  earnestly  besought  strength,  and  the  anointing 
of  the  Holy  Gho;^t,  for  the  recovered  Avanderer, 
in  the  conflict  vvhich  must  ensue.  Cleon  wept 
silently,  like  a  child ;  but  they  were  all  tears  of 
joy.     He  had  no  fenr  of  anv  conflict  now:  he 


60     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

thought  only  of  the  joy  of  being  beloved  and 
blessed  unceasingly  by  God;  and  if  the  idea  of 
sacrifice  crossed  liis  mind,  it  Avas  only  as  the 
eucharistic  offering  wliich  he  might  lay  at  the 
feet  of  Him  who  had  redeemed  him  with  His 
blood. — But  he  had  yet  ranch  to  learn. 

When  he  left,  Isidore  pressed  his  hand  affec- 
tionately, and  presented  him  with  a  copy  of  St. 
John's  Gospel. 

"It  has  been  my  light  in  many  dark  days,"  he 
said,  in  a  tone  of  earnest  tenderness ;  "  may  it 
be  such  to  you ! " 

Cleon  returned  to  his  solitary  home,  and  read 
the  divine  history  again  and  again  with  absorb- 
ing interest,  and  as  he  read,  the  light  steadily 
increased. 

In  a  few  days  he  came  again  to  Isidore.  After 
some  time  sj)ent  in  conversation  on  the  deep 
truths  which  now  possessed  Cleon's  mind,  the 
presbyter  said — 

"The  Lord  Jesus,  when  He  ascended  i«to 
heaven,  left  two  tokens  to  mark  His  disciples 
from  other  men.  The  first  of  these  is  Christian 
baptism.  Will  you  keep  this  His  commandment, 
and  thus  enlist  yourself  as  His  soldier  ?  " 

"  Let  me  receive  the  seal  of  my  allegiance  as 
soon  as  I  may." 

"It  is  a  sign  of  reproach  to  the  world,"  said 
Isidore.  "  It  may  require  from  you  many  sacri- 
fices ;  it  must  bring  on  you  much  shame." 

A  glimpse   of  one  possible   sacrifice,    which 


IN   THE   THIED   CENTURY.  61 

seemed  mpossible,  flashed  before  Cleon,  and  for 
a  moment  he  paused  ;  then  he  said  cahnly — 

"Am  I  not  ah-eady  His — and  should  I  shrink 
from  saying  so  ?  " 

"  You  will  need  a  surer  strength  than  the  mere 
ardor  of  youthful  purpose,"  observed  Isidore, 
gravely ;  "  wait  a  few  days  before  you  resolve — 
and  2^ray .'''' 


6 


62  A  TALE   OF  THE  EGYPTIAN   CHUBCH 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Those  whom  God  lias  taught  the  meaning  of 
conversion — what  it  is  to  be  delivered  from  self- 
righteousness,  and  self-searchings,  and  fruitless 
toils,  and  baseless  speculations,  into  the  happy 
and  lowly  liberty  of  the  children  of  God,  may 
know  what  liew  aspects  life  now  wore  to  Cleon. 

The  web  of  doubt  and  giiesses — the  chrysalis 
web  which  he  had  grown  so  weary  in  weaving, 
which  every  struggle  had  only  coiled  tighter 
around  him,  hiding  him  from  heaven  and  en- 
tombing him  from  his  kind — was  burst,  smitten 
by  a  bi'eath  from  above;  whilst  now,  heaven  was 
bright  in  its  OAvn  sunshine,  and  around  him  were 
happy  voices,  and  heai"ts  open  as  his  own. 

His  heart  Avas  opening  as  a  flower  in  a  spring 
morning,  and  heavenly  dews  and  sweet  winds 
and  sunbeams  fell  upon  it;  and  tlie  heavens  also 
were  opened,  and  the  angels  of  God  came  forth 
from  the  pearly  gates  to  minister  to  him.  The 
eye  which  had  so  long  been  wearying  itself  with 
looking  inwards,  straining  itself  in  the  darkness, 
until  nothing  but  the  hot  eye-balls  met  it  every. 


IN   THE   THIRD   CENTURY.  63 

where,  was  noAV  lifted  up.  The  scales  had  fallen 
from  it,  and  at  the  same  moment  the  clouds  were 
parted  from  the  sky,  and  Avherever  he  looked,  he 
met  tlie  eye  of  a  Father  resting  on  him  in  love. 

He  had  sat,  like  some  gray  alchymist,  poring 
over  the  furnace  of  his  heart,  growing  old  in  vain 
efforts  to  manufacture  the  elixir  of  life ;  and  now 
God  himself  had  draAvn  near  and  held  to  his 
parched  lips  the  cup  of  eternal  youth.  All  that  it  is 
to  be  a  "new  man"  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  through 
Him  a  beloved  and  dependent  child  of  the  Al- 
mighty God — to  be  endued  Avith  all  the  energies 
of  new  life — to  be  spent  in  the  service  of  One  so 
worthy,  Cleon  felt.  As  yet,  he  knew  little  of  the 
conflict,  but  it  came  upon  him  very  soon.  The 
light  broke  on  him  at  once,  like  a  sudden  Egyp- 
tian dawn,  and  the  day's  work  began  almost  with 
the  daylight. 

Maia  Avas  not  yet  returned  from  her  journey 
Avith  her  father,  so  that  time  Avas  given  him  for 
deliberation.  He  did  not  question  for  an  instant 
the  necessity  of  confessing  his  Master  before  men, 
nor  hesitate  as  to  doing  so  at  once,  although  in 
these  hours  of  sober  thousfht  the  Avhole  arrav  of 
consequences  ranged  themseh^es  vividly  before 
him,  No  sacrifice  could  be  so  terrible  or  so  re- 
pugnant to  him  as  to  have  to  live  a  lie. 

He  kncAV  he  must  encounter  much  dei'ision 
from  his  old  associates;  that,  Avithout  any  pe- 
culiar hard-heartedness  or  illiberality,  they  must 
— not  comprehending  the  facts  Avhich  had  been 


64  A   TALE    OP  THE    EGYPTIAN   CIIUECH 

revealed  to  liim — look  on  him  as  a  hot-brained 
enthusiast,  or  as  a  morbid  dreamer,  the  weak 
victim  of  a  superstitious  delusion.  This  he  knew, 
and  did  not  shrink  from  enduring ;  but  there  was 
one  thing  fi'om  wliich  his  wliole  nature,  the  pure 
human  feelings  of  which  his  new  faith  had  so 
strengthened  and  deepened,  recoiled  and  sick- 
ened. Again  and  again  he  met,  in  imagination, 
the  frown,  the  scorn,  the  bitter  denial  of  Caius 
Sertoi'ius ;  and  again  and  again  he  sought  to 
meet  Maia,  and  could  not.  He  knew  she  vrould 
not  scorn,  nor  distrust,  nor  blame  him,  but  he 
knew  she  would  suffer.  And  eA'Cry  fresh  attempt 
to  endure  the  conflict  before  it  came,  only  brought 
the  dreaded  reality  more  vividly  before  him,  and 
left  him  weaker,  until,  at  length,  he  resolutely 
banished  the  thought,  or  sought  to  meet  it  with 
some  words  of  Jesus,  or  with  prayer.  He  read 
much  in  the  Gosj^el  of  St.  John,  and  the  other 
Christian  Scriptures,  and  on  the  "  first  day  of  the 
week"  he  attended  for  the  first  time  a  Christian 
assembly,  to  which  Isidore  had  invited  him. 

It  vras  held  in  a  hall  in  Isidore's  house — the 
fear  of  threatened  jiersecution,  and  the  terror  oc- 
casioned by  a  recent  poj^ular  outbreak,  having 
made  the  Christians  more  cautious  in  their  move- 
ments. Cleon  stood  amongst  the  catechumens. 
The  service  began  with  the  early  morning,  and 
was  evidently  a  service  of  thanksgiving — a  festi- 
val for  all.  Isidore,  from  a  raised  platform,  read 
aloud  to  the  people  from  the  New  Testament — 


IN    THE    THIKD    CENTURY.  65 

Avhilst  an  interpreter  translated  sentence  by  sen- 
tence into  Coptic,  for  the  benefit  of  the  native 
Egyptians,  When  he  had  finished  reading,  he 
explained  the  -words  in  familiar  and  earnest  lan- 
guage, comparing  them  Avith  others  from  the 
same  source,  and  pressing  them  on  the  hearts  of 
his  hearers,  to  be  carried  home,  lie  said,  and 
lived  on. 

The  whole  assembly  responded  from  time  to 
time  to  the  prayers.  They  prayed,  and  sang,  and 
listened,  standing,  because  it  was  the  resurrection- 
day,  and  they  were  disciples  of  Him  Avho  had 
raised  the  fallen  ;  and  the  whole  service,  the  sa- 
cred day  itself,  the  very  lives  of  the  believers, 
Avere  to  be  a  eucharistic  resurrection-feast — a  liv- 
ing witness  to  His  resurrection. 

But  what  struck  Cleon  most  Avas  the  singing; 
the  low  chant  rising,  he  could  scarcely  tell  Avhence, 
and  SAvelling  from  diflTerent  parts  of  the  room, 
until  all  joined  in  a  joyful  chorus — not  tumul- 
tuous, like  the  heathen  songs  of  triumph,  but 
calm  and  thrilling  as  a  hymn  of  rest  after  toil, 
sung  by  a  family  reunited  in  their  father's  house. 
To  Cleon,  too,  the  sounds  came  Avith  overpoAvering 
sweetness;  for,  besides  his  own  new  and  deep 
sympathy  in  the  Avords,  they  seemed  to  bring- 
back  to  him  the  songs  his  sister  Alee  had  sung  in 
his  oAvn  home  in  Greece, 

After  the  last   hymn   had   been   sung,   many 
brought  offerings  of  bread  and  Avine,  and  money, 
for  the  poor  of  the  flock,  to  Isidore,  who  laid 
6* 


66    A  TALK  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CnUECH. 

them  on  the  table  before  Lim,  offering  them  to 
God  in  the  name  of  the  whole  Church — the 
royal  priesthood  consecrated  to  offer  spiritual 
sacrifices. 

Before  the  communion,  according  to  the  custom 
which  crept  so  early  into  the  Church,  and  gave 
occasion  for  so  many  scandals  amongst  the 
heathen  about  the  "  Christian  mysteries,"  the 
listeners  and  candidates  for  baptism  withdrew. 
Cleon  waited  in  the  garden-court  mitil  the  as- 
sembly should  disperse,  and  give  him  an  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  to  Isidore. 

As  he  paced  the  court,  two  little  children  came 
bounding  into  it,  chasing  each  other.  They 
paused  suddenly  on  seeing  tlie  stranger,  and  were 
making  their  escape,  when  Cleon  caught  the 
foremost  and  detained  her.  He  was  one  of  those 
people  whom  children  seem  intuitively  to  love,  and 
the  little  creature  let  him  seat  her  on  his  knee, 
and  soon  she  began  to  prattle  quite  confidentially. 
Her  brother,  who  seemed  a  year  older,  stood 
silently  beside  them,  mountin,^  guard  over  her. 

"  There  were  three  of  them,"  she  said,  "Dios- 
coros,  and  Philip,  and  herself.  She  was  very 
fond  of  Philip,  but  Dioscoros  was  the  dearest 
of  all ;  he  made  playtliings  for  her,  and  was  so 
gentle  and  so  good." 

"Where  is  he  now  ?  "  Cleon  asked. 

"  lie  is  gone  to  the  feast,"  she  replied. 

"What  feast?"  said  Cleon. 

The  little  girl  looked  wouderingly  at  him. 


IN   TUE   THIRD    CENTURY.  67 

"  The  feast  of  the  blessed  Jesus,"  she  replied, 
with  childish  reverence. 

"  Do  ?/o?«  not  go,  then  ?  "  Cleon  asked. 

"No,"  interposed  Pliilip ;  "my  mother  says 
Ave  are  too  little." 

"  But  Vv'e  know  about  Jesus,"  continued  the 
little  girl ;  "my  mother  and  Dioscoros  have  told 
us,  and  we  love  Him  indeed  very  much,  although 
■we  may  not  go  to  His  feast  yet.  Do  you  love 
Him?" 

"  I  do,"  he  replied,  stroking  her  hair. 

A  question  seemed  on  her  lips,  but  she  stopped, 
and  colored. 

He  answered  her  look :  "  I  shall  join  that  feast 
too,  before  long."  And,  after  a  short  pause,  he 
added,  "  But  what  can  you  know  about  the  Lord 
Jesus,  my  child?" 

"  He  came  from  heaven  that  He  might  make 
us  happy,"  she  said  ;  "  He  is  the  good  shepherd, 
and  little  children  are  His  lambs,  and  He  carries 
them  in  His  bosom,  and  loves  them ;  and  when 
we  sleep,  He  watches  over  us  and  blesses  us." 

"  You  ai-e  not  afraid,  then,  of  the  darkness  ?" 

"  Oil  no  !"  she  said,  smiling,  "for,  you  know, 
He  can  see." 

Cleon  did  not  answer,  but  he  took  the  child's 
lesson  to  his  heart. 

"  What  do  they  call  you,  my  child  ?"  he  asked 
at  length. 

"Alee,"  she  said;  "it  is  my  mother's 
name." 


68     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGTPTIAX  CHURCH 

A  suspicion  flashed  across  Cleou :  the  strangely- 
farailiai-  voice — the  earnest,  inquiring  look  of  the 
wife  of  Isidore — the  half-remembered  hymns — 
and  now  the  child's  name! — the  electric  chain 
seemed  complete — and  yet  he  hardly  dared  trust 
that  it  Avas  so. 

Just  then  Isidore  joined  them,  followed  by  his 
wife.     They  both  greeted  him  aifectionately. 

"Have  you  decided?"  Isidore  asked. 

"  I  have,"  Avas  the  reply.'  "  I  am  a  Christian, 
and  desire  to  seem  so." 

Isidore  embraced  him  cordially,  and  his  wife 
gave  him  her  hand — and  again  her  soft,  earnest 
eyes  rested  on  him,  with  the  look  of  wistful 
questioning  he  had  before  remarked. 

"  Are  you  a  Greek  ?"  Cleon  asked  abruptly. 

"I  am,"  she  said. 

"  Was  your  home  ruined  by  the  Romans."    • 

"  It  was,"  she  replied. 

"And  you  yourself  bound,  and  carried  into 
captivity? — forgive  the  question." 

"  I  was,"  she  answered  ;  "  they  carried  me  to 
Egypt" — and  seeing  how  eagerly  he  hung  upon 
her  words,  she  continued — "Bishop  Dionysius 
and  the  church  of  Alexandria  ransomed  me,  from 
love  to  our  common  Lord,  and  soon  after,  I 
married.  My  liusband  and  I  lived  many  years 
in  Syria,  and  we  only  returned  to  Alexandria  a 
few  months  since." 

'•  Had  you  a  brother  ?"  asked  Cleon,  anxiously. 

"  I  had — I  had  !"  she  exclaimed. 


IN   THE    THIRD    CENTURY.  69 

"  And  you  loved  and  tended  him  like  a  mother, 
and  sang  Christian  hymns  beside  his  cradle?" 

"  Cleon !"  she  cried,  all  her  calmness  giving 
way  in  a  burst  of  tears,  and  the  brother  and 
sister  were  clasped  in  each  other's  arras ! 

Doubly  brother  and  sister  now,  by  a  tie  how 
doubly  strong ! 

"  Ye  shall  receive  in  this  life  houses,  and 
brethren,  and  sisters,  with  persecutions.^'' 


70    A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 


CHAPTER  VII. 

Before  Cleon  would  take  another  step,  lie 
hastened  to  inform  Caius  Sertorius  of  his  con- 
victions and  his  purpose. 

He  was  prepared  to  endure  many  bitter  and 
harsh  words ;  he  knew  the  old  man's  heart — he 
knew  the  tenderness  which  lay  hidden  under 
all  his  outward  roughness — he  knew  how  all  this 
deep  hoard  of  love  was  "garnered  up"  in  Maia — 
and  he  kneAV  that  it  was  in  this  very  point  he 
had  to  wound  him — he  whom,  a  captive  and  a 
stranger,  Sertorius  had  cherished  and  guided  as 
a  son.  And  he  knew  that  the  reason  he  had  to 
give  must  seem  to  him  a  mere  flimsy  cloak  for 
deliberate  and  base  ingratitude.  Gently,  there- 
fore, though  with  a  calm  decision  which  left  no 
room  for  remonstrance,  he  confessed  and  ex- 
plained his  faith. 

The  old  man  heard  him  in  stern  silence,  not 
replying  for  many  minutes,  but  at  length  he 
said,  with  bitter  emphasis — "  Choose  between 
your  new  gods  and  Maia — both  you  can  not 
have." 

Cleon's  purpose  could  not  waver — but  how 
make  the  old  Roman   soldier  understand   that 


IN  THE   THIRD   CENTURY.  "^l 

there  was  One  whose  claims  to  obedience  and 
loyalty  were  beyond  those  of  benefactor,  libera- 
tor,  father,  and  betrothed  bride  ?  He  attempted 
no  retort,  but  suffered  himself  to  be  turned  con- 
temptuously from  the  house,  for  he  felt  that  the 
old  man,  believing  as  he  did,  Avasjust;  and  in 
his  pity  for  his  old  and  generous  friend — his 
father — the  father  of  his  Maia — he  almost  foro-ot 
his  own  still  harder  lot.  Yet  not  harder — 
agonizing  as  it  was — for  could  he  not  jyray^  and 
pi-ay  for  Maia  ?" 

But  another  conflict  still  remained  for  him. 

It  involves  something,  in  a  world  estranged 
from  God — nay,  more,  at  enmity  with  Him — to 
take  His  Word  as  the  rule  of  every  day's  conduct 
— not  only  to  draw  from  it  a  general  plan  of  life, 
but,  day  by  day,  as  perplexities  arise,  to  seek 
guidance  there  with  a  single  eye,  resolved  in  all 
things  to  do,  not  what  self-will,  or  expediency,  or 
human  authority,  although  divinely  authorized, 
may  dictate,  but  what  God  directs — to  have 
nothing  between  the  soul  and  His  direct  command, 
but  in  all  things  to  obey  Him  rather  than  man. 
It  involves  much — far  too  much  for  any  amongst 
us,  did  it  not  imply  mo7-e — did  it  not  imply  that 
God  our  Father  is  on  our  side,  ready  to  give 
more  grace  for  the  increasing  need — were  not  the 
command,  "  Walk  before  me,  and  be  thou  sin- 
cere,"* preceded  by  the  sustaining  assui'auce,  "I 
am  the  Almighty  Gociy 

*  Gen.  xvii.  1,  margin. 


72  A  TALE   OF  THE   EGYPTIAN   CHURCH 

On  this  strait  track,  this  narroAV  way  of 
obedience  and  of  peace — for  they  are  one — Cleon 
entered,  and  God  gave  him  a  single  heart. 

As  he  read  the  Gospels  and  Epistles,  he  became 
convinced  that  his  calling  as  a  soldier  was  not  of 
God ;  that  it  became  not  a  follower  of  Him  who 
resisted  not  evil,  to  gain  his  livelihood  by  strife. 
To  bear  the  sword  even  in  a  just  cause  appeared 
to  Cleon  contrary  to  the  mind  of  Him  who 
rebuked  the  disciple  who  sought  to  defend  Him 
with  the  sword;  and  the  wars  of  the  empire, 
which  he  had  been  engaged  in,  were  often  Avars 
in  the  cause  of  disorder  and  injustice — wars  of 
conquest,  or  plunder,  or  selfish  contests  between 
rival  generals. 

"  We,"  he  thought,  "  are  called  to  be  perfect, 
even  as  our  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect,  and  He 
sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  the  unjust.  Endur- 
ance  and  trust  are  our  only  Aveapons.  Even  as 
He  has  dealt  Avith  us — as  He  acts  towards  the 
world — must  Ave  act — Avith  patient  foi'bearance. 
For  the  Lord  Jesus,  in  reading  His  commission 
from  the  prophet  Isaiah,  closed  the  book  abruptly 
before  the  concluding  clause.  The  'day  of 
vengeance'  is  not  yet  come."  * 

He,  as  a  young  man  and  a  novice,  consulted 
many  of  the  elders  and  Avise  men  of  the  Church 
on  the  subject,  but  they  could  not  agree.  Isidore 
said  that  some  true  disciples  had  fought  in  the 
imperial    armies,   and    some  had  refused,    and 

*  Luke  iv.  18, 19,  compare  with  Isaiah  Ix.  1,  2. 


IN   THE   THIRD   CENTURY.  73 

suffered  ;  but  he  declined  to  give  him  any  coun- 
sel, referring  Iiiua  to  the  revealed  will  of  God, 
and  remarking,  that  convictions  derived  from  man 
had  not  basis  enough  to  stand  the  tempest. 

The  Roman  soldiers  were  frequently  required 
to  attend  and  assist  at  ceremonies  which  no 
Christian  could  tolerate — and  some  advised  him 
at  least  to  wait  until  some  such  requisition  were 
made,  and  not  to  invite  persecution.  His  old 
acquaintance  Papias  strenuously  urged  him  to 
this  course,  warning  him  with  many  prudent 
axioms  against  the  enthusiasm  of  youth  and  fresh 
convictions. 

Cleon  resolved  to  wait  until  his  baptism ;  not 
that  his  purpose  was  Aveak,  but  because  he  felt  it 
would  keep.  At  length  the  period  of  his  proba- 
tion was  over ;  his  catechetical  course  was 
finished ;  and  at  the  approaching  Easter  festival, 
the  pious  and  judicious  Bishop  Dionysius  was  to 
baptize  him  with  the  other  catechumens. 

It  was  an  exultmg  spring  morning,  the  Eve  of 
Easter  day.  The  Christians  of  Alexandria  re- 
paired in  groups  of  twos  and  threes  to  the  tomb 
of  one  of  their  martyrs,  situated  in  a  quiet  spot 
on  the  banks  of  one  of  the  mouths  of  the  Nile.  It 
was  his  hirthday,  as  they  called  the  anniversary 
of  the  martyr's  death,  and  they  met  at  his  grave 
to  sing  their  Easter  hymns  of  hope  and  thanks- 
giving. 

Tliere  was  also  to  be  a  baptism  that  day,  for 
the  early  Christians  delighted  in  celebrating  the 


I4k  A  TALE    OF  THE   EGYPTIAN   CHURCH 

blessed  type  of  their  death  and  resurrection  with 
Christ,  at  the  season  when  He  "  burst  the  bonds 
of  death,  and  opened  the  gates  of  everlasting  life 
to  all  believers,"  It  was  a  joyous  and  impressive 
festival.  A  deep  solemnity  seemed  to  pervade 
the  little  band,  and  a  peculiar  tenderness  of 
brotherly  affection,  for  they  knew  that  a  tempest 
of  persecution  was  impending  over  them,  and 
they  nestled  together  under  the  wings  of  the 
Almighty.  The  powers  of  the  earth  threatened 
them ;  but  the  power  of  the  Highest  over- 
shadowed them,  and  they  were  at  peace. 

It  was  a  quiet  place  ;  the  dew  was  not  yet  off 
the  grass  ;  the  low  sun  glittered  in  the  drops, 
and  glowed  in  the  river,  shooting  oblique  golden 
rays  up  througli  the  palm-trees  which  grew 
around  the  martyr's  tomb. 

One  by  one  tlio  catechumens  made  open  renun- 
ciation of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  the  Evil  One 
— a  profession  that  to  many  of  them  might  soon 
have  a  serious  significance.  One  by  one  they 
went  down  into  the  river,  "  buried  with  Christ" 
— one  by  one  they  rose  again,  typifying  their 
having  passed  unharmed  through  tlie  deluge  of 
death — death,  the  curse  of  sin — by  His  resurrec- 
tion. 

Then  the  presbyters  and  deacons  clothed  them 
in  the  white  robes  of  purity — as  one  day  they 
hoped  to  stand  before  the  throne  in  robes  washed 
and  made  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb  ;  and 
all  kneeling  before  the   Bishop  Dionysius,    he 


IN"  THE   THIRD   CENTURY.  75 

signed  them  with  the  sign  of  the  cross,  as  the 
badge  of  their  Avarfare,  anointing  them  with  the 
consecrating  oil,  in  sign  of  their  being  a  holy 
priesthood  set  apart  to  oficr  spiritual  sacrifices, 
acceptable  to  God  through  Jesus  Christ,  the 
atoning  sacrifice  and  the  great  High  Priest. 

The  whole  assembly  then  joined  in  singing  a 
hymn  of  the  Resurrection  ;  and  when  the  last 
note  of  the  joyful  chorus  died  away  on  the  fresh 
morning  air,  birds  and  waters,  and  young  leaves 
rustling  in  the  wind,  all  seemed  to  Cleon  to  take 
up  the  response,  "  The  Lord  is  risen  indeed." 

On  the  next  day,  the  Alexandrian  Christians 
met  again  at  Isidore's  house ;  and  after  the  Agape, 
or  common  meal  of  love,  for  the  first  time  Cleon 
with  gladness  and  singleness  of  heart  sat  at  what 
little  Alee  had  called  the  sacramental  "  feast  of 
the  blessed  Jesus." 

Cleon  passed  the  week  after  his  baptism — the 
week  in  which  the  newly-baptized  remained 
clothed  in  their  white  garments — in  the  house  of 
his  sister.  It  was  a  resting  time,  and  such  he 
sorely  needed.  The  right  hand,  which  it  had 
been  imposed  on  him  to  cut  off,  could  never  be 
replaced,  and  the  wound  did  not  heal.  His  whole 
nature  had  been  so  identified  with  Maia's,  that 
on  earth  he  had  literally  not  a  hope  nor  a  project 
left.  Every  day  taught  him  this  the  more,  and 
at  times,  in  the  happy  family  circle  of  his  sister, 
he  could  not  bear  it.  At  such  times,  he  found  it 
wiser  to  give  up  the  struggle,  feeling  less  lonely 


16  A  TALE    OF   THE    EGYPTIAN    CHUECH 

when  alone  ;  for  then  God,  in  all  His  blessed 
relationships  to  the  regenerate  soul,  came  near  to 
him,  and  in  His  ear  he  could  pour  out  his  whole 
soul  in  prayer  for  her  of  whom  he  could  not 
speak  to  any  other.  That  Aveek  was  a  season  of 
refreshment  and  bracing  for  the  contiict  which 
was  coming ;  for  before  the  end  of  it,  an  edict 
was  issued  in  Alexandria  for  a  festival  in  honor 
of  the  Emperor's  birthday;  his  statue  was  to  be 
borne  in  triumph,  and  the  soldiers  were  to  pay  it 
homao-e,  and  offer  sacrifice  on  his  behalf  to  the 
gods  of  Rome. 

Now,  therefore,  there  i-eraained  no  alternative 
for  Cleon.  He  knew  what  lay  before  him,  but  he 
felt  thankful  that  the  requisition  was  such  as  left 
no  possibility  of  doubt  or  compromise. 

Tiie  day  of  the  festival  at  length  arrived,  such 
another  day  of  cloudless  Egyptian  sunshine  as 
that  on  vv'hich  he  had  met  Maia  on  the  temple- 
steps,  with  her  thank-offering  for  the  inundation. 
The  first  peal  of  the  trumpets,  and  the  hurry  of 
joyful  preparation  in  the  city,  brought  a  thousand 
recollections  thronging  over  '  his  heart.  The 
tempest  of  doubt,  vv-hicli  that  sunny  day  had  only 
hushed  for  a  while,  vvas  nov/  stilled  for  ever  by 
the  only  voice  Avhich  can  still  such  storms,  and  in 
his  soul  there  vv'as  a  great  calm.  But  who  could 
say  what  tempest  might  this  day  shatter  his  life? 
He  saw  it  lower  already ;  in  every  tumultuous 
burst  of  acclamation,  in  every  eager  glance  or 
gesture  of  the  crowd,  he  saw  it  drawing  slowly 


IN  THE   THIRD   CENTURY.  *1 


h 


nearer; — but  strong  in  the  strength  of  obedience, 
he  Avent  cahnly  forth  on  his  ordinary  duties  to  en- 
counter it. 

The  procession  formed  and  moved  with  joyous 
pomp  through  the  streets ;  priests,  with  garlands 
and  white  robes,  leading  the  white  oxen  for  the 
sacrifice — children,  Avith  flowers  and  mimic  stand- 
ards, looking  up  proudly  to  catch  the  eyes  of 
their  mothers  and  sisters  in  the  crowd — soldiers, 
with  their  plumes  and  shining  armor  and  their 
impassive  faces,  marching  to  the  Avild  monotonous 
clang  of  Eastern  music ; — Cleon  rode  amongst 
his  comrades,  and  the  people  greeted  them  Avith 
shouts,  and  thrcAV  Avreaths  in  their  path  as  they 
passed. 

At  length  the  procession  reached  the  elcA^ated 
open  space  appointed  for  the  sacrifice.  One  after 
another  the  soldiers  advanced  to  strcAv  incense 
before  the  imperial  statue,  and  to  SAvear  the  cus- 
tomary oath,  "  By  the  genius  of  the  Emperor." 
Cleon  alone  refused  the  idolatrous  homage.  The 
croAvd,  not  understanding  the  reason,  greAV  im- 
jjatieut  of  the  interruption ;  but  Avhen  the  cause 
was  knoAvn,  their  impatience  Avas  instantaneously 
convei'ted  into  rage — those  Avho  could  not  ascer- 
tain the  occasion  catching  the  contagion  of  the 
common  feeling.  A  thousand  eyes  glared  fiercely 
on  him — a  thousand  voices  burst  forth  in  cries  of 
contempt  and  fury— a  thousand  arms  Avero  raised 
to  menace  one  who  dared  so  inauspiciously  to  ar- 
rest the  tide  of  festivity.    But  he  stood  in  the 


78  A  TALE   OP  THE   EGYPTIAN   CHURCH 

midst,   his   face  lighted   up   with  a  serene   en- 
thusiasm. 

"I  can  not  swear  by  your  gods,"  he  said  firmly, 
"for  they  are  no  gods.  There  is  but  one  God, 
even  the  Father,  and  one  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
whom  we  serve  :  I  am  a  Christian." 

Many  reasoned  with  him  earnestly,  pitying  his 
early  manhood ;  and  from  the  group  nearest  him 
One  voice  whispered — 

"  What  harm  is  there  in  scattering  a  little  per- 
fume  to  please  the  people,  or  in  swearing  an  oath 
which  can  injure  no  one  ?" 

Was  it  the  voice  of  the  tempter?  Cleon 
turned  hastily,  and  ere  he  was  lost  in  the  crowd, 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  sharp,  restless  eyes 
of  Pa]>ias,  the  rich  merchant. 

One  friendly  old  man  would  have  forced  the 
censer  into  his  hand,  but  Cleon  gently  repelled 
him ;  and  to  all  seductions  and  menaces  he  replied 
simply — 

"  I  can  do  no  otherwise — I  am  a  Christian." 
The  rage  of  the  multitude  at  length  grew  un- 
governable— they  would  have  pulled  him  in 
pieces,  crying,  "  Death  to  the  godless !"  "  To  the 
cross  with  the  worshiper  of  the  Crucified !  "but  the 
officers  of  justice,  having  bound  his  arms,  bore 
him  forcibly  through  the  throng  to  the  j^rison. 
One  stone,  however,  aimed  at  his  temple,  made  a 
deep  cut  in  his  forehead — his  lip  curled,  and  his 
eye  for  a  moment  flashed  scornfully  at  the  yell  of 
triumph  with  which  the  unmanly  act  was  greeted. 


IN   THE  THIRD   CENTURY.  79 

Yet  amongst  that  crowd  were  women  who  would 
have  died  to  save  those  they  loved,  and  men  who 
would  have  Avept  to  see  their  little  children  suffer. 
How,  then,  could  these  things  be  ?  Cleon  remem- 
bered the  Gross,  and  ceased  to  Avonder  or  to  be 
impatient. 

None  of  his  friends  were  allowed  access  to  him 
daring  the  three  days  of  his  imprisonment.  They 
Vv'ere  days  of  solemn  communion,  passed  alone, 
iii  the  innermost  sanctuary,  Avith  God.  When 
the  officers  returned  to  take  him  before  the  tri- 
bunal, he  Avas  calm  and  collected  as  one  acting 
nnder  authority.  Like  Hezekiah,  he  had  already 
encountered  the  enemy  in  the  temple,  and  van- 
quished him  there. 

"AVc  have  given  you  time,"  said  the  chief 
magistrate,  courteously,  "  to  retract  your  pur- 
pose ;  doubtless  you  have  used  it  wisely." 

"  I  have,  I  trust,  used  it  Avisely,"  replied  Cleon, 
calmly :  "  my  purpose  is  confirmed ;  I  dare  not 
break  my  oath  of  allegiance  to  the  King  of 
kings." 

"  Are  you  prepared,  then,  to  share  the  fate  of 
3'our  King  ?"  asked  one  of  the  magistrates,  sar- 
castically. 

"I  believe  that  He  Avho  died  for  me  will 
strengthen  mo  to  die  for  Him,  if  needful,"  said 
Cleon,  quietly,  "  and  Avill  raise  me  again  Avhere 
He  is  risen." 

"  He  is  like  the  rest  of  them,"  muttered  one  of 
the  magistrates ;  and  having  consulted  together 


86    A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

for  a  few  minutes  amongst  themselves,  one  of 
them,  Avho  seemed  the  most  bitter  against  the 
Christian  faith,  said,  "  There  is  but  one  way  in 
which  a  Roman  soldier  can  evade  his  duty — and 
that  is  by  being  degraded  to  the  condition  of  a 
slave,  and  branded  as  a  criminal.  We  can  offer 
you  this  means  of  escape,  if  you  desire  it." 

Cleon's  color  mounted  high.  "  I  have  deserved 
something  better  than  this  from  the  armies  of 
Rome,"  he  said,  bitterly. 

"Doubtless  the  Emperor  will  consider  your 
claims,"  replied  the  magistrate,  coolly,  "  if  you 
choose  to  remain  in  his  service." 

Cleon  i^ressed  his  hand  for  a  moment  to  his 
forehead;  in  that  moment  the  hopes  and  love 
of  years — Maia — honor — all  that  made  it  life  to 
live — rushed  in  a  torrent  over  his  heart;  but  on 
its  bosom  a  still  small  voice  was  borne  to  him, 
whose  music  pierced  the  roar  :  and  it  said,  "Him 
that  confesseth  me  before  men,  I  will  also  confess 
before  my  Father." 

And  looking  steadfastly  in  the  judge's  face,  at 
length  he  said — 

"  If  it  must  be  so,  I  am  ready  ;  i  can  neither 
sacrifice  nor  fight,  for  I  am  a  Christian." 

Then,  pale  as  death,  and  as  motionless,  save  for 
one  heavenward  glance,  and  one  quiver  of  the 
compressed  lip,  he  stood  whilst  the  sentence  was 
pronounced. 

He  was  young,  and  his  nature  was  proud  and 
impetuous ;  the  "  glory"  had  by  no  means  "  passed 


IS   THE    THIRD    CENTURY.  81 

away  from  earth"  for  him,  nor  was  his  keen  relish 
for  it  dimmed.  The  path  of  faithful  obedience 
for  liiui  lay  straight  athwart  that  he  Avould  have 
chosen,  but  One  had  trodden  it  before,  and  trod 
it  with  him  now. 

They  deprived  him  of  the  rights  of  a  Roman 
citizen — of  his  freedom  ;  but  he  knew  that  God 
liad  prepared  for  him  a  city,  and  now  he  realized 
the  truth  of  the  golden  words — "  Our  citizenship 
is  in  heaven."  They  declared  him  a  slave,  but  he 
remembered  Him  v.'ho  "  took  on  Him  the  form  of 
a  sla\'e"  for  our  sakes.  And  when,  in  the  gar- 
ments of  slavery,  they  led  him  forth  before  the 
troops,  and  with  a  hot  iron  branded  his  forehead 
vfith  the  indelible  mark  of  infamy  and  crime,  he 
looked  mito  "  Him  v.dio  endured  the  cross,  de- 
spising the  shame,  and  is  now  set  on  the  right 
hand  of  God."  "  And  this,"  he  thought,  "  is  not 
the  cross." 

He  was  not  borne  above  the  trial  in  any  ecstasy 
of  unconsciousness ;  he  passed  through  the  midst 
of  it,  feeling  it  keenly ;  but  He  who  is  persecuted 
in  His  people  passed  through  it  with  him.  Bitterly 
as  he  felt  the  shame,  and  heavy  as  this  affliction 
seemed,  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  he  felt  that  it 
was  light  in  comparison  with  the  exceeding- 
weight  of  the  glory  which  should  be  revealed. 

The  sentence  was  carried  out  to  the  full.  They 
sold  him  into  slavery,  and  put  his  price  into  the 
public  treasury. 

He   knew   not  who   had   purchased  him,  nor 


82     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

whither  they  would  lead  him,  nor  what  master  he 
would  have  to  serve — already  he  had  suffered  too 
much  to  care  ;  and,  besides,  he  trusted  implicitly 
in  the  guidance  of  the  Hand  into  which  he  had 
given  up  his  all.  At  length,  however,  as  they 
led  him  through  the  city,  when  he  looked  up, 
arrested  by  some  scornful  words,  he  thought  he 
recognized  the  street — it  seemed  familiar  to  him. 
In  another  moment  he  was  at  his  sister's  door. 
She  led  him  into  the  hall.  The  Church  of 
Alexandria  had  ransomed  him. 

"  Nay,  my  sister,"  he  said,  withdrawing  from 
her  speechless  embrace,  "  I  can  not  stay  here.  It 
has  been  the  will  of  my  God  to  bow  me  very  low, 
but  I  will  not  sink  you  with  me." 

She  did  not  reply,  but  taking  his  burning  hand 
in  hers,  she  led  him  to  a  couch,  and  knelt  beside 
him.  And  as  he  sat  there  in  silence,  his  head 
bowed  down,  the  little  Alee  crept  softly  towards 
him,  and  climbing  on  his  knee  as  she  was  wont 
to  do,  and  clinging  round  his  neck,  she  kissed  his 
forehead.  Tlie  kisses  of  the  child  came  where 
they  had  branded  the  mark  of  shame,  and  laying 
her  soft  hands  on  the  wound,  she  said,  wonder- 
ingly,  "  Mother — they  have  hurt  him !" 

Cleon  did  not  seek  to  repel  her;  he  pressed  her 
close  to  his  heart.  The  fever  A^-ithin  him  was 
cooled,  and  his  tears  fell  on  the  forehead  of  the  child. 

But  such  furnaces  can  not  be  jDassed  through 
unscathed.  The  spirit  indeed  was  willing,  but 
the  flesh,  although  it  had  been  sustained,  Avas 


IN    IHE    THIRD    CENTtJRT.  83 

wealc.     Before  the  end  of  the  week,  a  virulent 
fever  laid  Cleou  low. 

For  many  days  he  was  delirious.  At  times  he 
would  start  up  vehemently,  and  conjure  them  not 
to  let  Maia  know.  And  then  he  would  plead  like 
a  child,  that  they  would  let  him  see  her,  and 
explain  it  all  to  her  ;  he  was  sure  she  Avould  un- 
derstand. Often  visions  of  glory  seemed  to  float 
before  his  eyes,  and  he  would  exclaim,  "  Tell  her 
that  I  do  not  repent ;  that  it  is  wortli  the  sacri- 
fice." Then  he  would  press  his  hand  to  his 
forehead,  and  say,  "  Do  not  shudder,  do  not  turn 
from  me,  Maia ;  it  is  only  the  cross  they  signed 
on  my  forehead  at  my  baptism.  It  burns,  but  it 
is  light.  Will  you  be  baptized  with  the  baptism 
that  I  am  baptized  with  V 

Alee  sat  by  his  bedside  night  and  day,  watch- 
ing every  movement  and  every  change.  And  he 
seemed,  at  times,  to  confuse  her  strangely  with 
Maia,  and  heaven  with  his  old  Greek  home.  "  Did 
they  say  it  was  ruined  ?"  he  Avould  say  ;  "  that 
can  not  be,  it  is  incorruptible — neither  moth  nor 
rust,  nor  thief  can  enter  there,  nor  sorrow,  nor 
sin.  It^  is  a  city  which  hath  foundations — and 
God  is  its  builder  and  its  light." 

When  the  healing  sleep  was  given  him  at  last, 
and  he  awoke  and  looked  around  him  again  col- 
lectedly. Alee  still  was  watching  beside  him.  The 
light  of  her  calm  eyes  seemed  to  compose  his 
half-awakened  spirit.  "  I  have  had  a  long  dream, 
Alee,"  he  said ; "  was  it  all  a  dream  ?" 


84  A   TALK    OF  THE   EGYPTIAN   CHURCH 

By  slow  degrees  consciousness  and  strength 
returned.  One  day,  when  lie  seemed  stronger 
than  usual,  Alee  ventured  to  ask  him  about  Maia, 
and  then  the  long-restrained  confidence  flowed 
forth  freely  ;  he  told  her  all  he  had  lost.  It  Avas 
a  comfort  to  Cleon  to  think  that  Alce's  jjrayers 
would  now  be  jomed  to  his  oaati  on  her  behalf, 
and  that  she  perhaps  might  watch  over  Maia,  as 
he  could  never  hope  now  to  do. 

Besides,  he  had  much  to  learn :  so  many  of 
God's  most  blessed  words  seem  as  if  written  Avith 
invisible  ink,  to  be  brought  out  and  made  legible 
only  by  fire.  There  were  treasuries  of  truth  and 
hope,  of  Avhich  he  had  but  just  crossed  the 
threshold.  The  heavenly  citizenship,  the  actual 
reconciliation  of  the  Churcl),  and  her  expectation 
ofher  future  purchased  but  unredeemed  possession 
— which  make  it  so  well  worth  while  to  be  a 
sti-anger  on  earth  for  the  "  little  Avhile ;"  the 
"  Great  Mystery"  of  the  Bride  and  her  Lord — 
the  Church  given  by  the  Father  to  the  Son  to  be 
His  companion  throughout  eternity,  purchased 
with  blood,  and  raised  from  the  dust,  to  manifest 
the  glory  of  Him  who  had  loved  her  to  angels,  to 
share  His  joy  and  minister  His  grace  to  all  crea- 
tion, and  in  the  Father's  house  to  be  loved  for 
ever  with  His  unutterable  love — that  love,  which 
now,  througii  the  wilderness,  it  was  such  peace 
to  lean  on  ; — these,  and  many  of  the  other  great 
realities  which  make  the  glory  of  earth  so  flimsy 
and  pitiful,  and  the  meanest  service  for  God  so 


IN   THE    THIRD    CENTURY.  85 

glorious,  came  M'itb  overwhelming  power  upon 
bis  mind,  and  made  it  calm  and  strong — brought 
to  bis  remembrance  by  the  Comforter,  who 
abideth  with  the  orphaned  Church  for  ever. 

For  the  reproach  of  men  who  knew  not  what 
they  did,  the  acknowledgment  before  God  and 
angels  and  men  that  He  has  loved  us ;  for  the 
inward  desolation  now,  the  white  stone  with  the 
new'  name,  known  only  to  him  that  receiveth  it — 
was  not  the  exchange  good  ? 

And  meanwhile  the  gentle,  peaceful  character 
of  his  sister,  the  quiet  smile  that  often  shone  in 
her  eyes  as  if  she  had  a  hidden  store  of  happy 
thoughts ;  the  earnest,  holy  life  of  Isidore,  so  rigid 
to  himself,  so  tender  to  others,  so  open  to  all 
good  influences  from  without;  the  honest,  though 
somewhat  hard-won  afiection  of  Philip ;  the 
watchful  kindness  of  Dioscoros,  whom  his  father 
used  to  call  his  young  Parabolanus^^'  because  he 
so  loved  to  help  and  watch  the  sick ;  the  caresses 
of  his  little  pet  Alee ; — these,  and  the  thousand 
other  wholesome  influences  of  a  Christian  home, 
Avere  like  the  breath  of  healthy  sea  breezes  to  the 
invalid,  healing  and  bracing  him  insensibly. 

The  air  of  the  morning  seemed  ahvays  to  per- 
vade the  "whole  family,  as  those  just  risen  in 
health  and  fresh  hopefulness,  to  the  work  of  a 
slprt  and  busy  day.     They  were  emphatically 

*  An  office  amongst  the  earl}''  Christians,  something  similar  to 
■which  seems  to  have  hceu  revived  amongst  the  United  Brethren  of 
Bohemia,  under  the  name  of  Oardc-malade. 

8 


86    A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CUUKCH. 

"  children  of  the  day.''''  One  fact  seemed  the 
centre  of  their  thoughts  and  lives,  and  that  was 
the  resuri-ection.  As  in  the  paintings  and  sculp- 
tures of  the  old  Roman  catacombs,  the  cross,  for 
them,  was  garlanded  with  wreaths  of  victory 
from  the  opened  sepulchre.  Yesterday  was  to 
them  the  day  of  the  resurrection  of  their  Lord ; 
to-day,  the  day  of  service,  with  all  the  energies 
of  tlie  new  life ;  to-morrow,  the  morning  of  the 
resurrection  of  the  just,  when  the  dead  in  Christ 
shall  be  raised,  and  the  living  changed.  Such  an 
atmosphere  could  not  be  around  Cleon  continually, 
and  leave  him  desolate  as  it  found  him. 

The  Church  of  Alexandria,  too,  loved  to  honor 
one  who  had  so  honored  lier  Lord.  It  Avas  no 
golden  age  for  the  Church  then,  any  more  than  in 
the  days  Avheu  that  of  Corinth  gave  such  trouble 
to  St.  Paul,  or  that  where  Gaius  lived,  led  away 
by  Diotrcjohes,  refused  to  receive  the  beloved 
disciple.  She  was  not  then  broken  up  into  many 
contending  sections,  nor  had  she  yet  identified 
herself  with  the  Gentile  nations.  There  was  still 
one  visible  Catholic  Church  on  earth,  manifest  to 
all,  and  the  early  Christians  yet  shone  as  the  light 
in  the  darkness  throughout  the  world,  manifest- 
ing that  they  v^^ere  the  disciples  of  Jesus,  by  the 
love  which  they  had  one  for  another. 

But  Cleon  could  not  always  bear  the  honor 
they  would  have  done  him,  and  it  was  settled  by 
Isidore  and  Alee  that  it  would  be  better  for  him 
to  leave  Alexandria  for  a  while,  and  fulfil  the 


IN   THE   THIRD    CENTURY.  87 

desire  which  had  been  given  him  of  proclaiming 
the  grace  and  truth  of  God  amongst  the  Eastern 
nations. 

He  was  therefore  ordained  by  Bishop  Dionisius 
and  his  presbyters,  and  sent  forth,  wuth  the 
prayers  and  blessings  of  the  Church  of  Alexan- 
dria, to  labor  amongst  the  churches  which  St. 
Thomas  had  first  planted  in  southern  India. 

"  You  Avill  remember  Maia  ?"  he  said  to  Alee, 
at  parting. — She  did  not  forget. 


88     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Nor  did  Maia  forget  Cleon.  When  first  her 
fiither  told  her  that  Cleon  was  a  Christian,  and 
that  they  were  never  more  to  meet,  the  blow 
seemed  to  prostrate  her  and  she  wejDt  passion- 
ately for  days.  But  the  very  excess  of  her  grief 
brought  healing  with  it.  Hope  was  so  natural 
and  unchecked  with  her,  and  sorrow  was  so  new, 
that  she  felt  sure  it  could  not  last  She  knew 
more  of  her  father's  heart  than  of  his  will,  and 
was  persuaded  he  would  soon  relent.  To  her  it 
made  not  the  slightest  difierence  what  Cleon's 
religion  might  be — would  he  not  still  be  Cleon  ? 
Under  these  influences  her  spirits  gradually  re- 
turned, and  Cains  Sertorius  began  to  hope  that 
she  would  fulfil  his  notion  of  young  maidens  in 
general,  and  soon  be  ready  to  flutter  off"  to  some 
new  flower.  To  make  this  the  easier,  he  pro- 
Added  her  with  every  amusement  is  his  power,  to 
make  her  home  bright,  and  he  was  becoming  very 
easy  about  the  result — not  knowing  the  tears  she 
shed  at  night.  But  at  length  the  rumor  of  Cleon's 


IlSr   THE    THIRD    CENTURY.  89 

disgrace  and  sufi'ering  reached  Maia.  Every  one 
had  been  strictly  charged  not  to  tell  her,  but 
havina-  heard  the  rumor,  she  would  not  rest  until 
she  had  extracted  all.  Then,  iu  lier  indignant 
sympathy,  she  would  have  flown  at  once  to  share 
his  reproach,  but  they  concealed  from  her  the 
place  of  his  abode,  and  ere  she  could  ascertain  it, 
Cleon  had  left  Alexandria — left  without  a  word, 
or  a  sign  of  remembrance  for  her — left,  they  said, 
for  ever !  She  was  sure  she  knew  his  inmost 
heart — sure  he  could  not  have  changed ;  still  this 
new  religion,  Avhich  every  one  spoke  of  as  in- 
famous— how  could  she  tell  what  magical  power 
it  might  have  exercised  over  a  mind  earnest  as 
his?  And  beneath  the  cold  shadow  of  doubt,  all 
her  joyous  nature  was  chilled  and  benumbed. 
Her  spirits  failed,  her  interest  in  everything 
ceased ;  the  beautiful  earth  became  but  as  a  dead 
floor  for  her  weary  feet,  the  arch  of  heaven  as 
the  vault  of  a  tomb — for  Maia  had  nothing  be- 
sides Cleon  to  lean  on.  Yfhilst  the  staft"  was 
there,  she  scarcely  knew  that  she  leaned  on  it ; 
but  when  it  was  removed,  she  fell  helpless  and 
powerless.  She  did  not  struggle,  nor  give  way 
to  passionate  lamentings,  she  simply  sank  power- 
less and  crushed !  Her  world  Avas  empty — her 
heart  was  blank ;  but  it  is  often  on  the  blank  heart 
that  God  writes  His  best  messages. 

Her  father  saw  it  all,  and  tried  in  vain  nnmse- 
raeuts,  society,  traveling ;  she  listened,  and  saw, 
and  smiled,  but  enjoyed  nothing ;  she  seemed  to 
8* 


90     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHUKCH 

have  become  a  mere  spectator  of  others'  lives — 
her  own  concluded.  She  could  not  but  be  sen- 
sible that  liis  tenderness  increased  with  her  need; 
but  though  she  felt  it  deeply,  it  could  not  cheer 
her ;  it  only  wounded  her  the  more.  The  tide  of 
his  love  flowed  over  her  heart  as  over  a  channel 
the  heat  had  quite  dried  up — and  left  it  drj'. 

But  one  day,  when  she  was  sitting  on  the  old 
garden  steps,  where  she  had  so  often  sat  with 
Cleon,  gazing  into  the  river,  not  expecting  her 
father  home  so  soon,  chancing  to  glance  up  sud- 
denly, she  saw  him  looking  v>nstfully  at  her. 
How  long  he  had  been  standing  there  she  did  not 
know,  but  when  ho  met  her  eye,  he  brushed  the 
tears  from  his  rough  cheeks  and  turned  sadl^/ 
away.  The  sense  of  her  injustice  came  over  her; 
she  felt  that  he  needed  her ;  and  rising,  she  went 
quietly  to  him,  and,  hiding  her  head  on  his  shoul- 
der, wept  there  silently.  The  other  side  of  her 
woman's  nature  was  touched ;  she  felt  that  one 
depended  on  her,  and  the  sense  of  having  to  sup- 
port him  made  her  strong.  In  sustaining  him,  she 
was  sustained  herself  And  so  she  learnt  to  endure. 
But  she  was  much  changed — all  the  child  had 
passed  away  from  her,  and  in  the  gentle,  serious 
girl,  who  waited  on  her  father  at  his  meals,  an- 
ticipating his  wishes,  or  sat  quietly  spinning  at 
his  side,  listening  to  his  old  stories  of  the  wars 
and  the  barbarians,  few  would  have  recognized 
Maia.     But  Cleon's  name  was  never  uttered. 

At  length  the  spring  came  round — it  Avas  the 


IN  THE   THIRD   CENTURY.  91 

second  after  Cleon  had  left — and  Sertorius  began 
to  observe  a  change  in  his  child.  Something  of 
the  old  light  came  back  to  her  eye,  and  the  old 
spring  to  her  step.  A  new  life  seemed  to  animate 
her,  and  her  face  M'ould  often  beam  with  a  natural 
though  quiet  smile.  He  could  not  comprehend 
it,  but  it  rejoiced  his  heart. 

Would  it  have  rejoiced  hinr  as  much  had  he 
known  the  cause  ?  It  was  indeed  a  new  life  which 
animated  Maia.  A  desire  to  know  what  this  new 
religion  could  be  that  had  robbed  her  of  Cleon 
induced  her  to  buy  a  copy  of  St.  Luke's  Gospel 
and  St.  Peter's  Epistles  from  a  Christian  pedlar ; 
and,  enchained  by  the  irresistible  truthfulness  of 
the  narrative,  simply,  without  doubt  or  question- 
ing, she  had  believed  it.  She  was  weary  and 
heavy  laden,  and  she  came  to  Jesus  and  found 
rest.  The  light  came  to  Maia  before  the  darkness; 
and  from  the  atonement  made  for  it  she  first 
learnt  her  sin. 

The  light  had  naturally  manifested  the  darkness 
to  her  ;  on  the  knowledge  of  the  love  of  God,  and 
"what  it  has  given,  followed  the  sense  of  respon- 
sibility  and  obligation.  She  longed  to  tell  every 
one  of  the  treasure  she  had  found;  but  fear,  and 
all  the  prudent  reasons  fear  can  always  suggest, 
withheld  her.  She  would  show  her  faith  by  the 
joy  and. peace  it  brought  into  her  life;  and  then, 
when  her  father  noticed  this,  she  would  tell  him 
the  blessed  secret,  and  lead  him  to  embrace  it 
too.  Besides,  she  was  yet  very  young  in  the  faith. 


92  A   TALE    OF   THE    EGYPTIAN    CHUKCH 

and  very  imperfectly  taught;  and,  if  she  were 
hasty  and  incautious  in  her  confession,  she  might 
be  deprived  of  all  opportunity  of  further  growtli. 
Thus,  as  it  always  is  when  we  look  to  circum- 
stances, and  not  straight  to  God,  Maia's  eye  was 
bewildered,  and  her  conscience  clouded,  until  at 
length  she  was  losing  even  the  peaceful  temper 
Avhich  Avas  to  M'ork  such  wonders  on  her  fiithcr. 

At  length,  however,  an  accident  aroused  her  to 
decision. 

Persecution  broke  out  in  Alexandria.  One 
evening  Sertorius  came  home  with  the  tidings 
that  the  Christians  were  flocking  to  the  temples 
to  saci'ifice  in  obedience  to  the  imperial  mandate, 
and  amongst  them  a  rich  merchant,  called  Papias. 
"  They  seemed,"  he  said,  "  alike  afraid  to  sacri- 
fice, and  afraid  to  refuse." 

"  Did  any  refuse  ?"  asked  ]Maia,  trembling. 

"  Yes,"  he  said ;  "  some  persisted  in  their 
madness ;  some  were  scourged,  some  I'acked,  and 
some  thrown  into  the  flames  ;  their  obstinacy  is 
marvellous.  One  boy,  called  Dioscoros,  the  son 
of  one  of  their  ]>riests,  was  tortured,  so  that  the 
sight  of  it  made  me,  old  soldier  as  I  am,  and  used 
to  sights  of  blood  and  sufix^ring,  shudder ;  and  yet 
the  child  never  uttered  a  murmur." 

"Did  he  endure  to  the  end?"  asked  Maia,  lier 
heart  sickening. 

"  He  persisted  in  his  refusal,  but  the  governor 
had  compassion  on  liis  youth,  and  his  life  was 
spared.     His  companions  were  burned.     Their 


IN   TnE    TIIIKD    CENTURY.  93 

madness  is  incredible.  If  it  Avere  not  for  their 
superstition,  one  conld  not  help  admiring  their 
patience;  but  the  man  whom  they  worship  as 
their  God  has  promised  them  some  wonderful 
felicity  after  death,  and  they  believe  His  Avords 
as  implicitly  as  if  they  saw  the  things." 

Maia  rose  abruptly,  and  standing  before  him, 
pale  and  trembling,  Avith  a  strength  of  resolution 
not  her  own,  exclaimed,  "  Father !  O,  do  not  say 
a  Avord  against  Him — I  belieA^e  in  Him- — I  am  a 
Christian  !" 

She  Avas  not  prepared  for  the  burst  of  passion 
which  her  confession  excited.  At  first,  he  sat 
mute  Avith  amazement;  but  when,  though  half 
fainting  AA'ith  fear,  she  persisted  in  her  assertion, 
the  old  man  seemed  beside  himself  with  grief  and 
anger.  "  The  curse  of  the  gods  has  lighted  on 
my  house  !"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  Cleon  is  fallen  ;  and 
noAT  my  child  !" 

He  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  Weeping 
silently,  she  Avatched  him  for  some  minutes,  until 
at  length  she  A'entured  to  lay  her  hand  on  his 
arm,  and  AA'hisper,  "  Father !" 

But  he  rose,  and,  sternly  repulsing  her,  said, 
"  'No  Christian  is  a  child  of  mine  !  This  house 
can  no  longer  be  your  home.  Go  AA'here  you  Avill, 
serpent  that  I  haA^e  cherished  in  my  bosom !  share 
Cleon's  shame,  if  you  AA-ill,  and  leave  me  in  ray 
old  age  alone." 

But  Maia  did  not  leave.  For  a  little  Avhile  she 
kept  to  her  own  apartments,  only  Avatching  that 


94  A   TALE    OF  THE   IIGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

all  her  father's  comforts  were  attended  to,  and  at 
lengtli  she  ventured  to  wait  on  him  as  she  was 
wont  at  his  meals.  At  first  he  scarcely  spoke, 
and  tried  to  keep  up  his  stern  manner,  but  his 
eyes  Avould  follow  her  when  she  left  the  room ; 
and  one  evening  he  said  to  her  abruptly,  "  Why 
do  you  not  sit  down,  child  ? — you  look  tired." 
Her  eyes  glistened,  as  she  brought  her  spinning- 
wheel,  and  sat  down  beside  him  in  silence. 

By  degrees  she  crept  into  all  her  old  v/ays  and 
places;  the  old  man  forgot  his  stoical  purpose 
altogether;  and  when  he  was  a  little  querulous 
with  growing  infirmities,  she  was  so  gentle,  and 
cheered  him  so  with  her  pleasant  words,  that  he 
grew  to  depend  on  her  like  a  child,  and  could  not 
bear  her  to  be  out  of  his  sight. 

She  never  spoke  to  him  of  her  faith,  but  she 
spoke  much  to  God  for  him,  which  was,  perhaps, 
the  more  direct  way.  One  day,  however,  after 
many  weeks,  she  ventured  to  say  that  she  should 
like  to  attend  the  Christian  assemblies.  Sertorius 
did  not  reply,  and  she  ^at,  casting  her  care  on 
Him  who  careth  for  us,  yet  trembling  for  the 
result.  But  when  she  kissed  him,  and  wished  him 
good-night,  he  murmured,  "  Do  not  stay  long, 
child,  if  you  must  go."  From  that  time,  he  never 
interfered  with  her  movements,  suffering  her  to 
visit  tlie  sick,  and  assist  the  widows  and  orphans 
of  the  martyrs,  whilst  she,  on  her  part,  cheerfully 
resigned  all  that  fidelity  to  a  higher  authority  did 
not  require. 


IN   THE    THIRD    CENTURY.  95 

He  used  always  to  send  a  slave  to  fetch  her 
v/hen  she  returned  from  the  place  of  prayer,  until 
one  day,  when  the  civil  war  was  raging  in  the 
city,  and  she  was  later  than  usual,  he  grew 
anxious  about  her  and  went  to  meet  her  himself, 
and  from  that  time  he  constantly  guarded  her 
home.  Once  or  twice  she  fancied  he  had  been 
listening  at  the  door,  but  he  never  said  so.  And 
about  this  time  she  missed  her  copj'-  of  St.  Luke's 
Gospel ;  she  did  not  search  for  it ;  but  j^rayed 
earnestly  that,  into  whosesoever  hands  it  fell,  it 
might  penetrate  the  heart. 

In  the  Christian  assemblies,  and  in  her  quiet 
ministi'ies  amongst  the  sick  and  bereaved,  Alee 
watched  her  with  motherly  care,  often  encour- 
aging her  witli  words  of  faith  and  sympatliy ; 
but  of  Alce's  history  and  family  Maia  knew 
nothing. 


96     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 


CHAPTER  IX. 

Meanwhile  the  Church  of  Alexandria  had 
rest,  and  was  reaping  the  peaceable  fruit  of  the 
persecution — those  who  were  not  of  it  being 
sifted  out  of  it,  whilst  the  true  disciples  were  bound 
together  with  redoubled  affection.  Divisions 
Avere  healed,  and,  walking  more  simply  in  the 
light,  they  had  fellowship  one  with  another. 
As  the  good  Bishop  Dionysius  wrote,  "  All 
are  rejoicing  everywhere  at  the  unanimity  and 
brotherly-love  now  prevailing,  and  are  glorifying 
God  for  the  same." 

There  had  been  much  disputing  about  the 
thousand  years'  reign  of  the  Lord  Jesus — some 
contending  for  an  earthly  paradise,  whilst  others, 
in  their  zeal  to  preserve  intact  the  heavenly 
destinies  of  the  Church,  perhaps  lost  sight  of 
the  promised  redemption  of  creation  at  the  mani- 
festation of  the  sons  of  God,  and  the  earthly 
destinies  of  the  Jewish  nation  ;  although,  prob- 
ably, none  amongst  them  doubted  that  the 
Lord  would  return  in  like  mannin*  as  He  had  as- 


IN   THE   THIKD    CENTUKT.  97 

cended,  to  judge  the  nations,  and  gather  His 
redeemed,  quick,  and  dead,  to  Himself. 

After  the  persecution  came  a  pestilence.  Alex- 
andria, long  wasted  by  famine,  and  by  riot  and 
civil  war,  Avhich  had  made  it  at  times  a  perilous 
thing  to  pass  from  one  street  to  another,  Avas  now 
laid  waste  by  the  direct  scourge  of  God. 

Pestilence,  with  all  its  awfnl  accompaniments 
of  helpless  panic  and  reckless  lawlessness,  raged 
in  the  city.  The  fearful  poison  seemed  to  lurk 
everywhere — in  the  people's  food,  in  the  air  they 
breathed,  and  in  the  clothes  they  wore.  Men 
M'ere  afraid  to  breathe,  afraid  to  eat,  afraid  to 
touch  one  another,  afraid  even  to  fly !  The  icy 
touch  of  death  fell  upon  every  home  in  Alexan- 
dria; and  Alexandria,  with  her  wealth  and 
luxury,  and  subtle  philosophy,  and  open  sin,  was 
without  God  in  the  world !  In  their  despair  the 
people  thronged  the  temples  and  made  vows  of 
self-immolation  assaulting  the  Christians  as  the 
enemies  of  the  gods  and  the  authors  of  these 
calamities. 

It  is  a  joyful  thing,  amidst  all  the  failure 
and  grivous  Inkewarmness  of  the  Church  of  God 
before  the  world,  to  know  hovv^  clearly  her  light 
shone  before  men  in  that  day  of  thick  darkness 
— how  manifest  it  was  that  He  who  was  in  her 
was  greater  than  he  who  was  in  the  world. 

Peril  made  the  heathen  desperate ;  it  made  the 
Christians  calm.  "  The  heathen,"  Eusebius  says, 
"  repelled  those  who  began  to  be  sick,  and  avoided 
9 


98     A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH 

their  dearest  friends.  They  wov;ld  cast  them  out 
into  the  streets  half  dead,  or  throw  them  out, 
when  dead,  without  burial,  striving  to  shun  any 

communication  and  participation  with  death 

Many  of  our  brethren,"  he  continued,  "  through 
their  exceeding  great  love  and  brotherly  affection, 
neglecting  themselves  and  befriending  one  an- 
other, constantly  superintending  the  sick,  min- 
istering to  their  wants,  without  fear  and  without 
cessation,  and  healing  them  in  Christ,  have  died 
most  willingly  Tvith  them.  Filled  with  disease 
from  others,  catching  disorders  from  their  neigh- 
bors, they  drew  the  pain  from  others,  and  infused 
it  into  themselves.  They  took  up  the  bodies  of 
the  saints  Avith  their  own  hands,  and  on  their  bo- 
soms, closed  their  mouths,  carried  them  on  their 
shoulders,  and  composed  their  hands,  embraced 
them,  clung  to  them,  and  prepared  them  decently, 
washing  them,  and  wrapping  them  up ;  and  ere 
long,  they  themselves  received  the  same  offices — 
those  that  survived  always  following  those  before 
them." 

In  the  house  of  Sertorius  one  of  the  slaves 
died ;  then  old  nurse  Julia  was  taken.  Maia 
closed  her  eyes,  and  she  had  reason  to  hope  that 
their  opening  gaze  would  rest  joyfully  on  Him 
who  was  pierced  for  her. 

At  length,  Caius  Sertorius  himself  began  to  be- 
tray symptoms  of  the  fatal  disease ;  and  no  sooner 
had  these  been  manifested  than  all  the  house- 
hold fled,  leaving  the  old  man  alone  with  his  child. 


IN   THE   THIRD   CENTURY.  99 

He  entrcntecl  her  to  iiy,  but  she  avoviIcI  not  listen, 
and  at  last  lie  ceased  to  desire  it,  suffering  her  to 
do  v.-hat  she  would  for  him. 

The  disease  advanced  with  fearful  rapidity. 

One  evening,  when  it  had  grown  dusk,  whilst 
Maia  watched  beside  her  father's  bed,  pray- 
ing— 

"  My  child !"  the  old  man  gasped,  "  take  that 
book  from  the  niche  beside  my  bed,  and  read  to 
me  about  Him  in  whom  you  trust." 

Maia  eagerly  took  down  the  roll — it  loas  her 
lost  Gospel  of  Sf.  Luke.  She  knelt  down  by  the 
bed,  and  sobbed  out  her  thanks  to  God. 

"Maia,"  he  asked,  fixhig  his  hollow,  bright 
eyes,  with  a  look  of  intense  earnestness  on  her, 
"  do  you  think  there  can.be  pardon  for  me?" 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  when  you  believed  me 
an  ungrateful  and  rebellious  child,  you  could  not 
find  it  in  your  heart  to  cast  me  from  you.  Our 
Lord  Jesus  teaches  us  to  call  God  Father.''^ 

The  old  man  was  silent  for  some  moments  : 
then  he  said,  "  What  you  say  is  wonderful ;  but 
I  believe  it  is  true.     Read  to  me,  Maia." 

She  read  of  the  prodigal  son.  As  she  read,  a 
man's  footstep  echoed  through  the  empty  house. 
The  doors  were  open ;  she  thought  it  might  be 
one  of  the  bandits  who  used  to  plunder  the  de- 
serted palaces.  Her  heart  grew  chill,  but  she 
read  on  in  faith — 

"  And  when  his  father  saw  him,  he  was  moved 
with  compassion,  and  ran,  and  fell  on  his  neck, 


100        A   TALE    OF  THE   EGYPTIAN   CHUKCH 

and  kissed  him,  saying,  This  my  son  was  dead, 
and  is  alive  again  ;  was  lost,  and  is  found." 

The  footstejjs  paused  at  the  door — 

"  It  is  Cleon  ! "  gasped  the  dying  man. 

Maia  started — her  senses  grew  dizzy — she  had 
not  thought  the  old  feeling  was  so  strong — but 
the  presence  of  death,  and  of  God,  soon  restored 
her  calmness. 

Cleon  came  forward  to  the  bedside.  Maia  saw 
the  scar  in  his  forehead,  and  she  held  out  her 
hand.  He  took  it  in  both  his.  They  could  neither 
of  them  speak. 

At  length  tlie  old  man  gathered  up  his  remain- 
ing strength,  and  said,  "  Maia,  will  you  shrink 
from  sharing  his  reproach  ?" 

She  could  not  answer,  but  she  laid  her  other 
hand  on  Cleon's. 

"Cleon,"  said  the  dying  man,  "I  have  sinned 
grievously,  but  I  trust  God  will  receive  me,  even 
as  I  welcome  you.  Forgive  me,  and  guard  her 
well." 

They  knelt  silently  beside  him  and  joined  their 
hands  in  his :  he  laid  them  on  his  breast,  and 
whispered,  "Our  Father."  And  so  saying,  lie 
fell  asleep. 

Cleon  took  her  to  his  sister's  house.  There, 
too,  death  had  been  busy,  carrying  the  youngest 
and  the  eldest  to  their  rest.  Isidore  had  finished 
his  fight,  dying  at  his  post ;  and  little  Alee  had 
been  bidden  up  higher,  to  the  "  feast  of  the  bless- 
ed Jesus  "  above. 


IN   THE   THIKD    CEKTtJKY.  101 

At  length  the  pestilence  subsided— and  once 
more  the  Church  of  Alexandria  was  gathered 
together  in  the  hall  of  the  house  of  Isidore. 

There  were  many  widows  and  orphans  there  ; 
but  still,  amidst  their  tears,  the  little  assembly 
raised  their  voices  in  heartfelt  thanksgiving, 
praising  Crod  for  those  whom  He  had  taken  to 
Himself,  and  also  for  those  whom  He  had  yet 
left  in  the  world  to  serve  Him  a  little  longer 
amongst  men.     They  chanted  the  lOYth  Psalm — 

O  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord,  for  he  is  good, 

For  his  mercy  endureth  for  ever. 

Let  the  redeemed  of  the  Lord  say  so. 

Whom  he  hath  redeemed  from  the  hand  of  the  enemy." 

On  that  day  two  lives  were  to  be  joined  to- 
gether before  the  Church  of  God  ;  Clcon  and 
Maia  were  to  be  married. 

Maia  was  led  forth  by  the  deaconesses,  in  a 
long  white  linen  veil — they  then  plighted  their 
faith  to  each  other;  and  the  bishops  and  the 
presbyters  blessed  them,  the  whole  assembly  re- 
sponding  with  supplications  of  blessing  on  their 
union.  Then,  together,  they  laid  a  gift  on  the 
table  of  the  Lord,  and,  with  the  whole  Church, 
they  partook  of  the  sacred  memorials  of  His  love 
in  whom  they  were  one. 

Henceforth  all  their  lives  were  to  flow  together 
in  one  holy  stream  of  blessing — their  table  was 
to  be  their  Lord's  table — their  house  His  temple; 
so,  with  a  subdued  yet  trustful  joy,  they  went  on 
their  journey  of  life  together. 
9- 


102         A   TALE    OF   THE    EGYPTIAN    CIITJRCH 

What  the  ideal  of  a  Christian  uuion  was  in 
those  early  days,  we  may  learn  from  one  who 
lived  in  them: — 

"  What  an  union,"  says  Tertullian,  "  is  that  be- 
tween two  believers,  who  have  one  hope,  one  de- 
sire, one  rule  of  life,  one  service  of  one  Lord,  in 
common  !  Both,  as  brother  and  sister,  one  in 
body  and  spirit,  yea,  in  the  true  sense,  two  in 
one  flesh,  kneel  together — together  fast  and 
pray ;  they  teach,  exhort,  and  bear  with  one  an- 
other :  they  sit  together  in  the  Church  of  God, 
together  at  the  table  of  the  Lord.  They  share 
distresses,  persecutions,  joys,  hiding  nothing  from 
one  another;  freely  do  they  visit  the  sick  and 
assist  the  needy ;  psalms  and  hymns  resound  iu 
their  home ;  and  they  emulate  one  another  whicli 
shall  sing  the  praises  of  their  God  the  best. 
Christ  rejoices,  seeing  and  hearing  such  things  ; 
to  such  He  sends  His  peace  ;  where  two  are, 
there  is  He  ;  and  where  He  is,  there  the  Evil  One 
is  not," 

Thus  did  our  brethren,  in  those  days,  under- 
stand the  distinction  between  the  labors  of  the 
ascetic  and  the  free  service  of  thanksofivinsr — 
what  it  means  to  be  like  Him  who  is  perfect  man, 
as  well  as  perfect  God, 

Thus  holy,  and  blessed,  and  blessing,  was  the 
home-life  of  Cleon  and  Maia. 

The  two  fomilies  were  to  take  a  final  leave  of 
Alexandria  in  a  few  days  after  the  marriage  of 
Cleon  and  Maia,  to  settle  together  amongst  the 


IN   THE   THIKD   CENTUKY.  103 

Indian  churches,  where  Cleon  had  labored  suc- 
cessfully. 

On  the  day  before  their  departure,  the  widowed 
Alee  and  her  children,  with  Cleon  and  Maia,  met 
at  a  quiet  place  without  the  city,  where  many 
bodies  of  the  saints  of  Alexandria  slept,  to  take 
a  last  farewell  of  the  resting-place  of  their  be- 
loved. They  were  not  clad  in  mourning,  for  the 
early  Christians  feared  this  might  seem  like  mur- 
muring against  Him  who  they  knew  does  all 
things  well. 

They  knelt  on  the  graves,  and  Cleon  prayed. 
Insensibly  his  prayer  took  the  form  of  thanks- 
giving. When  they  rose  they  all  felt — even 
Cleon  and  Maia,  to  whom  so  much  had  been 
given  on  earth — that  much  of  their  treasure  was 
already  laid  up  in  heaven — that  they  had  much 
"  precious  seed  "  laid  in  the  ground,  until  the 
time  when  he  who  "sowed in  tears"  shall  doubt- 
less "  come  again  with  joy,  bearing  his  sheaves 
with  him." 

"  Alee,"  said  Cleon,  "it  is  but  a  little  while  for 
all  of  us." 

She  bowed  her  head,  and  murmured,  "  It  is 
welh" 

"  For  we,"  he  added,  "  '  sorrow  not  without 
hope.' " 

"  No,"  said  Maia,  smiling  brightly  through 
her  tears ;  "  He  will  bring  them  with  Him." 

"  AVe  on  earth,  and  they  in  the  better  place 
'  for  ever  with  the  Lord,'  we  wait  alike  for  the 


104  A  TALE  OF  THE  EGYPTIAN  CHURCH,  ETC. 

day  when  He  Avith  whom  oiu-life  is  hid  shall  ap- 
pear, and  we  with  Him." 

And  so,  patiently  laboring  from  day  to  clay, 
before  God — sent  into  the  world  as  their  Master 
was  sent — ministering  to  all,  even  as  He  minis- 
tered— doing  their  Father's  will,  and  resting  on 
His  grace, — they  looked  on  through  the  night  to 
the  cloudless  morning  of  the  resurrection. 


SKETCHES  FROM  THE  HISTORY 


REFORMATION  IN  ITALY, 


I. 

SEED  SOWN  BY  THE  WAYSIDE. 

If  you  had  chanced  to  be  at  Fevrara,  one 
summer's  evenmg,  some  three  hundred  years  ago, 
you  might  have  seen  a  number  of  men,  of  all 
classes  and  ages,  issuing  from  the  door  of  a 
building  apparently  connected  Avith  the  Ducal 
Palace.  There  must  have  been  an  assembly  of 
some  kind  within.  It  did  not  seem  to  be  alto- 
gether a  public  meeting,  for  the  people  did  not 
throng  out  of  the  doors,  and  disperse  openly 
through  the  streets,  but  came  quietly  in  groups 
of  twos  and  threes,  and  either  kept  together  in 
earnest  conversation,  or  separated  silently,  each 
to  his  home.  Nor  Avas  it,  apparently,  the  resort 
of  mere  idlers,  called  together  by  one  of  the 
brilliant  spectacles  so  frequent  at  the  gay  and 
classical  court  of  Ferrara  ;  tliese  men  had  nothing 
of  the  mien  of  mere  idlers  ;  you  might  trace  them 
through  the  streets,  thronged  as  they  were,  at 


108  THE    EEFOKMATION    IN   ITALY. 

this  holiday  hour  of  the  south,  by  gay  and  eager 
multitude — by  their  earnest,  absorbed  looks — 
their  low,  serious  converse — the  silent  pressure 
of  the  hand  at  parting.  Yet  there  was  nothing 
stealthy  or  timid  in  their  bearing— nothing  of  the 
suspicious  glance  of  conspirators  :  they  moved  on 
like  men  engaged  in  some  great  common  under- 
taking— unobtrusive,  but  unfearing. 

"  The  Duchess  has  been  holding  one  of  her 
Lutheran  prayer-meetings  again,"  said  a  soldier 
at  the  corner  of  one  of  the  streets,  as  one  of  these 
groups  passed  by,  to  the  prosperous-looking  land- 
lord of  the  inn,  at  the  door  of  which  he  stood. 

"  Every  one  his  own  Avay,"  was  the  somewhat 
latitudinarian  reply  of  mine  host ;  "  the  sun  shines 
and  the  vines  grow  ;  let  each  man  thank  God  in 
his  own  language." 

"Holy  Mary!  my  excellent  gentlemen,"  ex- 
claimed a  little  shrivelled  vender  of  relics,  from 
behind  her  stall,  "the  saints  defend  us  from  the 
Lutheran  poison !  Father  Anselm  says  the 
prayers  of  the  heretics  are  worse  than  curses.  In 
Germany,  they  say,  the  wretches  have  burnt  the 
holy  images  as  if  they  had  been  mere  wood  ;  and 
buried  the  relics  of  the  saints" — ■ — 

"  As  if  they  had  been  the  bones  of  honest  men !" 
interrupted  the  soldier,  laughing.  "  So  much  the 
better  for  your  trade,  mother  Berta  :  the  scarcer 
the  goods  the  higher  the  prices." 

"  If  I  may  be  allowed  to  ofier  an  opinion, 
worthy  sirs,"  interposed  a  spruce  little  barber, 


SEED   SOWN   BY   THE   WAYSIDE.  109 

with  an  introductory  hera,  and  in  an  oratorical 
and  oracular  voice,  "  the  powers  of  Christendom 
had  better  look  about  them.  Portentous  signs 
are  abroad.  At  Lucca  and  Pisa,  heresy  stalks  in 
open  daylight;  at  Venice,  they  have  had  the 
audacity  to  petition  the  Senate  for  a  place  of 
worship.  At  Naples,  (I  have  it  from  the  highest 
authority,)  the  disease  has  crept  into  the  noblest 
families.  If  I  were  the  Pope,  I  would  lay  a  strong 
hand  on  the  rebels." 

"  The  Pope  is  a  mere  phantom  !"  retorted  the 
soldier ;  "  no  one  believes  in  the  Pope  who  has 
been  at  Rome.  If  you  had  seen  the  Lutheran 
lanzknechts  drag  the  cardinals  through  the  streets, 
as  I  have — mock  the  mass  hi  the  church — lay  bare 
the  sacred  toys  and  tricks  of  the  monks — parade 
a  rough  felloM'',  like  me,  through  the  city  on  an 
ass,  as  Pope,  and  kneel  to  receive  his  benediction 
before  the  very  eyes  of  Clement,  crying  out, 
'  Life  to  Pope  Luther !'  you  would  know  some- 
thing!    Let  Heaven  defend  its  own." 

At  each  successive  enormity  of  this  narrative, 
Monna  Berta  had  crossed  herself;  but  at  the 
climax  she  groaned  aloud,  and  exclaimed,  in  a 
tone  of  unfeigned  terror,  "  All  the  saints  preserve 
us  from  Luther  and  all  the  devils !" 

"  Freedom  is  good,  but  safety  is  better  !"  said 
the  barber ;  "  I  am  for  a  general  council." 

"  Your  free  life  has  given  you  some  rather  lax 
notions,  my  friend,"  said  the  complaisant  land- 
lord. 

10 


110  THE   KEFORMATION   IN    ITALY. 

"  The  Lutherans  are  the  men  for  freedom," 
was  the  reply.  "'Down  Avith  priests  and 
beggars  !'  say  they  ;  '  let  the  Word  of  God  speak 
for  God,  and  cA-ery  man  for  himself!'  Bnt  what 
do  you  say  about  it,  my  pretty  child  ?"  he  con- 
tinued, turning  to  a  little  maiden  who  was  selling 
fruit — diving  meanwhile  into  her  gi-ape  basket — 
"  Luther  or  the  Pope  ?  the  Duke  or  the  Duchess  ?" 

"O  sir,"  said  the  child,  "if  it  is  of  the  good 
Duchess  Renee  you  are  speaking,  we  can  never 
l^ray  enough  for  blessings  on  her.  We  were 
starving,  and  she  sent  us  food;  my  father  was 
dying  in  prison  because  he  could  not  pay  his 
debts,  and  she  paid  them  with  her  own  purse, 
and  sent  Luigi  to  school,  and  gave  me  fruit  from 
her  own  gardens  to  sell,  until  my  father  could 
leave  his  bed.  Oh,  she  has  been  to  us  an  angel 
of  God !" 

"Good!"  pronounced  the  soldier.  "Let  the 
heretics  live  like  angels  and  fight  like  Germans, 
and  they  may  pray  as  they  will,  for  me.  A  glass 
of  your  best  wine.  Sir  Landlord,  and  here's  long 
life  to  Pope  Luther !" 

"  Young  men  like  ne"w  ways,"  said  an  old  man, 
shaking  his  head  over  his  glass  ;  "  trodden  paths 
are  surest." 

"  What  news  from  the  kingdom  of  heaven, 
Messer  Ludovico  ?"  demanded  the  soldier  of  a 
young  student,  v/ho  had  just  made  his  exit  from 
the  palace. 

"  There  is  life  in  the  words  of  these  men  I"  was 


SEED   SOWN    BY   THE   WAYSIDE.  Ill 

the  serions  reply,  "^here  Avere  two  speakers  to- 
night— one,  a  Capuchin  fi'iar,  tall,  pale,  worn,  it 
seemed,  with  fastings  and  inward  battles.  His 
soul  seemed  of  fire — it  flashed  from  his  eyes, 
between  his  hollow  cheeks  and  dark  brows — and 
his  Avords  rushed  out  like  a  torrent  of  flame  from 
Vesuvius," 

"  That  was  Ochino,  the  Tuscan,  from  Sienna, 
general  of  the  Capuchins,"  observed  the  landlord : 
"  no  man  in  Italy  can  speak  like  him." 

"  True,"  said  the  little  barber,  patronizingly, 
"  the  man  has  a  very  pretty  knack  of  talking." 

"  While  he  spoke,"  continued  the  young 
student,  "  we  seemed  to  forget  all  but  him.  We 
hung  on  his  Avords  as  on  the  sentence  of  life  or 
death ;  the  hearts  of  the  Avhole  assembly  were 
gathered  into  one,  and  heaved  to  and  fro,  like  a 
light  skiff,  in  the  tempest  of  his  thoughts,  while 
he  spoke  to  us  of  sin  and  death,  and  the  unfath- 
omable chasm  on  the  brink  of  Avhich  we  stand. 
We  were  bi-eathless :  it  seemed  as  if  a  breath 
might  have  broken  the  thread  wdiich  bound  us  to 
this  visible  world,  and  sent  the  soul,  naked  and 
shivering,  into  the  presence  of  the  Judge !" 

'-'■  Jesu  Maria!  it  is  so!"  exclaimed  the  soldier. 
"  The  friars  tell  us  of  the  saints,  and  their  merits, 
and  we  go  comfortably  to  sleep ;  or  if  by  chance 
a  poor  fellow  starts  up,  and  begins  to  tremble 
and  fear  it  is  not  all  right  Avith  him,  some  soft- 
spoken  monk  Avill  come  and  tap  him  on  the 
shoulder,  and  say,  '  Don't  distress  yourself,  my 


"112  THE   EEFOEMATION  IN   ITALY. 

good  friend ;  I  have  a  little*interest  up  there;  a 
few  dollars  from  your  next  forage,  and  we  will 
soon  set  all  to  rights  !' — Bah !  it  is  as  if  the  judg- 
ment-seat were  like  the  court  of  the  Pope  !  But 
these  Lutherans,  they  bring  one  face  to  face  with 
hell  and  heaven,  sins  and  all,  just  as  one  is  ;  fly 
who  may,  there  is  no  hiding.  And  then,  when 
they  speak  of  salvation,  there  is  some  meaning 
m  it !" 

"  That  Avas  just  Ochino's  way,"  the  student 
rejoined.  "Then,  when  he  pointed  out  the  Sa- 
viour— the  cross  of  our  redemption ;  the  Judge 
himself  stretching  out  His  hand  between  the 
criminal  and  executioner — his  voice  was  low  and 
calm ;  the  tempest  was  hushed  ;  it  was  as  if  the 
axe  had  been  turned  aside  from  our  own  necks; 
as  if  the  Lord  Christ  himself  had  waked,  and 
come  to  us  in  the  midst  of  the  storm,  and  whis- 
pered, '  Pease !'  A  great  calm  came  over  us,  and 
strong  men  wept  like  children." 
*  There  was  a  pause — then  the  landlord  asked, 

"  And  the  other  preacher,  Messer  Ludovico  ?" 

"  Ah !  he  was  a  man  of  another  mould  ;  they 
say  he  is  a  young  Frenchman,  from  Picardy.  His 
accent  was  foreign,  but  we  soon  forgot  that.  He 
was  tall,  with  a  maiwellously  grave,  firm  counte- 
nance; straight,  chiselled  features;  eyes  that 
looked  not  at,  but  through  you ;  grand  level 
brows  ;  a  mouth  fit  for  an  emperor — so  resolute ! 
I  never  saw  a  nobler  head.  Michael  Angelo 
might  have  carved  it  for  a  god,  if  the  Almiglity 


SEED   SOWN   BY    THE    WAYSIDE.  113 

himself  had  not  chiselled  it  for  a  saint !  A  smile 
of  heavenly  calm  rested  at  times  on  his  face ; 
nevertheless,  it  might  chance  to  be  easier  for  him 
to  command  the  armies  of  heaven  than  to  serve 
the  servants  of  Christ." 

"  It  must  have  been  Charles  Ileppeville,"  said 
the  landlord,  "  although  I  have  heard  that  is  not 
his  true  name.  He  has  been  long  at  the  palace; 
they  say  he  is  a  kind  of  confessor  to  the  Duchess 
— only  the  Lutherans  do  not  confess.  How  did 
he  speak  ? — not  like  our  fiery  Capuchin,  I  trow." 

"  A  weapon  of  another  temper  altogether," 
was  the  answer.  "  There  is  fire  in  him  too  ;  but 
it  does  not  flash  out.  You  only  see  the  strength 
of  the  furnace  by  the  temper  of  the  steel  it  has 
cast.  Every  word  of  his  told ;  each  blow  fell  on 
the  right  place.  There  was  no  bravado ;  no  dis- 
play of  tricks  of  fencing.  The  sharp  point 
pierced  through  the  very  knot  of  the  difficulty, 
and  the  whole  tangled  web  fell  to  pieces  in  an 
instant." 

"  Well,  every  man  to  his  trade,"  observed  the 
soldier :  "the  stiletto  for  the  student ;  Luther's 
good  heavy  broadsword  for  me." 

"  No  foreign  religion,  German  or  French,  for 
us,"  interposed  the  old  man,  sharply.  "  Italy  for 
the  Italians." 

"You  speak  truly,  old  man,"  said  a  gentle 
voice,  which  had  not  before  joined  in  the  col- 
loquy.   "  The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  no  foreigner." 

The  party  turned  to  survey  the  uew-comer. 
10* 


114  THE   REFORMATION   IN   ITALY. 

He  had  joined  them  a  few  ramutes  previously, 
and  had  listened  Avith  interest  to  the  conversa- 
tion. His  dress  was  plain — that  of  an  ordinary- 
citizen  ;  his  appearance  and  manner  Avould  not 
have  arrested  attention,  and  yet  there  was  some- 
thing in  him  to  fix  it  when  once  aroused — a  calm 
determination,  an  expression  of  earnest  thought ' 
in  the  large,  serious  eyes,  melancholy  when  in  re- 
pose, but  at  times  lighting  into  enthusiasm. 

"  God  can  speak  in  Italian,  as  well  as  in  Saxon 
or  Latin,"  he  continued ;  "  would  you  be  pleased 
to  listen  a  Avhile  to  some  of  His  OAvn  words  ?" 

They  acquiesced,  and,  quietly  seating  himself 
on  a  bench  at  the  door,  the  stranger  drew  from 
his  loose  sleeve  a  clasped  book,  and  in  a  deep, 
calm  voice,  began  to  read. 

He  read  of  the  last  supper,  the  betrayal,  and 
the  crucifixion.  As  he  read,  the  attention  of  his 
auditors  grew  more  and  more  intense,  and  their 
numbers  increased.  The  landlord  foi'got  his  cus- 
tomers, the  customers  their  w^ine,  the  little  barber 
his  orations ;  old  Monna  Berta  unconsciously  upset 
Madonnas  and  Agnus  Deis,  as  she  leant  over  her 
stall,  in  her  eagerness  to  catch  every  word ;  Lucia, 
the  little  fruitseller,  sank  down  on  her  knees  by 
her  basket  at  the  stranger's  feet,  the  tears  cours- 
ing one  another  down  her  cheeks;  the  soldier 
never  moved  his  eyes  from  the  reader,  and  when 
he  came  to  the  dividins:  of  the  c:arments — "  The 
cowardly  thieves !"  he  muttered,  clenching  his 
hands,  "if  I  had  only  been  there !" — then  shrink- 


SEED  SOWN   BY  THE   WAYSIDE.  115 

ing  back,  as  if  ashamed  of  his  impetuosity,  he 
leaned  on  the  shade  of  the  porch,  and  listened — 
every  now  and  then  brushing  the  tears  from  his 
rough  cheeks. 

At  length  the  reader  paused,  and  as  in  plain 
and  direct  words  he  told  them  how  their  sins  had 
done  all  this  to  the  Saviour — how  for  their  sakes 
He  bore  it  all  because  He  loved  them — sobs  of 
pity  and  shame  burst  from  that  passionate 
southern  audience ;  and  when  he  rose  and  left 
them,  saying,  solemnly,  "  Go  home  and  tell  what 
great  things  the  Lord  hath  done  for  you,"  no  one 
spoke  for  many  minutes. 

At  length  the  soldier  said,  as  he  moved  slowly 
away,  "Every  word  goes  through  one  like  a 
word  of  command." 

"  The  saints  defend  us  from  heresy!"  exclaimed 
Monna  Berta.  "  The  holy  images  are  good,  but 
such  words  are  better;  they  bring  the  things 
themselves  before  us." 

The  group  separated  in  silence ;  even  the  little 
barber  had  no  speech  for  the  occasion. 

And  little  Lucia  followed  the  stranger,  and 
timidly  pressed  into  his  hand  her  best  bunch  of 
grapes. 

"  Take  them,  good  sir,  for  the  love  of  God.  Is 
it,  then,  indeed  true,  that  the  great  God  lo^■es  us 
even  better  than  the  good  Duchess?" 

"  Your  name,  friend  ?"  said  the  soldier,  laying 
his  hand  on  the  stranger's  shoulder.  "  That  was 
strange  news  that  you  told  us^the  general  taking 


116  THE   REFORMATION   IN   ITALY. 

on  himself  the  punishment  of  the  deserter :  there 

is  no  abandoning  one's  post  after  that." 

"  My  name  is  Faventino  Fannio,  of  Faenza ;  if 

you  have  learned  to  rejoice  in  the  good  tidings, 

my  friend,  spread  them."' 

"  We  shall  meet  again.  Signer  Fannio." 

"  If  it  pleases    God,"    was  the   reply,    "  and 

■when  He  pleases." 


II. 

THE  PALACE. 

Meanwhile,  a  different  group  was  gathered  on 
the  terrace  of  the  Ducal  Palace.  At  one  end  sat 
the  good  Duchess  Reuee,  of  France,  daughter 
of  Louis  XII.,  and  wife  of  Ercole  of  Ferrara, 
bendins:  over  some  delicate  embroidery.  Before 
her,  on  a  small  clawed  marble  table,  lay  some 
books,  and  a  silver  basket,  the  work  of  Benvenuto 
Cellini,  filled  with  silken  and  golden  threads. 
A  beautiful  child  leaned  against  her  knee,  her 
hair  fallins:  in  rich  clusters  on  her  shoulders,  as 
she  looked  up  with  her  dark,  languid  eyes,  in  her 
mother's  face.  It  was  Leonora  d'Este.  The 
fair  child  was  ripening  into  that  touching  beauty 
which  was  to  be  the  worship  and  the  woe  of 
Tasso. 

Around  the  Duchess  stood  three  gentlemen, 
gesticulating  with  Italian  vehemence.  On  a  stone 
seat  at  the  other  end  of  the  terrace,  resting  his 
arm  on  the  balustrade  to  encircle  a  book  which 
he  was  reading,  sat  a  young  Frenchman.  His 
dress  was  severely  plain — his  lofty  brow  was 


118       THE  BEPORMATION  IN  ITALY. 

slightly  knit,  and  his  lips  compressed,  and  every 
now  and  then  he  drew  his  hand  thoughtfully 
over  his  moustache  and  beard.  Two  little  girls 
were  playing  near  ;  one  of  them,  a  lively  child  of 
twelve,  tried  from  time  to  time  to  catch  his  at- 
tention ;  but  although  the  little  tempter  was  no 
other  than  the  fascinating  Lucrezia,  afterwards 
Duchess  d'TJrbino,  all  her  arts  were  in  vain. 
John  Calvin,  better  known  at  Ferrara  as  Charles 
Heppeville,  was  deep  in  the  Epistle  to  the 
Romans. 

The  Duchess  had  nothing  royal  in  her  appear- 
ance. You  would  not  have  singled  her  out  from 
her  ladies  as  the  one  born  to  command.  Her 
features  were  plain — her  figure  homely — her 
dress  as  plain  as  the  manners  of  the  time  allowed. 
A  velvet  train,  open  in  fi'ont,  displayed  the  ample 
folds  of  a  brocaded  petticoat ;  her  straight  bodice 
was  unadorned  ;  a  jewelled  necklace  rose  and  fell 
beneath  her  transparent  Stomacher,  and  her  hair 
was  concealed  in  a  tight  velvet  hood.  By  the 
table  at  which  she  sat  stood  a  lady  of  far  queen- 
lier  bearing.  She  was  young,  and  simply  attired: 
a  black  velvet  dress  fell  around  her  graceful  form, 
confined  by  a  silver  girdle  ;  a  plain  white  collar 
stood  up  around  her  throat;  the  sleeves  of  her 
dress  fell  from  the  elbow,  and  at  the  wrists  the 
snowy  lawn  was  clasped  by  silver  bracelets ; 
these,  with  the  miniature  of  an  old  man  with 
gray  locks  and  beard,  which  rested  on  her  bosom, 
were  her  only  ornaments.     The  miniature  was  a 


THE    PALACE.  119 

sketch  of  lier  father,  a  distuiguishecl  physician — 
by  the  young  Raphael.  Her  head  was  shghtly 
bent,  and  in  her  hands  she  held  some  of  the 
Duchess's  broidery  threads,  which  she  was  ar- 
ranging ;  the  long  lashes  shaded  her  rounded 
cheek,  and  her  dark  hair, 

"  Not  over  wide  disprcad, 
Parted  Madonna-wise  on  either  side  the  head," 

was  confined  in  a  golden  network. 

But  as  from  time  to  time  she  raised  her  head 
suddenly,  when  something  in  the  conversation 
aroused  her — in  the  expressive,  half-parted  lips, 
the  broad  forehead,  the  sunny  eyes,  you  could 
see  the  hght  of  a  clear  intellect,  and  the  glow  of 
a  warm  and  generous  heart.  She  was  Olympia 
Morata,  one  of  the  most  gifted  of  the  women  who, 
in  tlie  time  of  that  great  awakening,  gave  them- 
selves to  the  cause  of  Christ  and  of  freedom. 

But  although  the  Duchess  bore  on  her  brow 
no  inscription  legible  to  vulgar  eyes,  "  I  sit  a 
queen  !  "*  every  line  of  her  homely  but  expressive 
features  bespoke  her  the  true-hearted  woman. 

Her  brow  was  not  smooth — years  and  cares 
had  furrowed  it ;  her  eyes  were  not  bright,  for 
they  had  shed  many  tears.  Her  face  did  not 
glow  with  Olympia's  high  enthusiasm,  but  the 
quiet  smile  that  rested  ou  her  lips  as  she  looked 
down  on  her  little  Leonora,  or  beamed  in  her  kind 
eyes  as  she  raised  them  at  some  sentiment  she 
liked,  was  worth  much — -it  was  so  chastened,  anc? 


120  THE    EEFOEMATION    I>r   ITALY. 

yet  so  cordial — she  looked  so  good  and  true. 
You  mio-ht  not  have  loved  the  Duchess  Kenee 
for  her  face,  but  you  would  soon  have  loved  her 
face  for  her  sake. 

Although  poorer  than  Olympia  in  natural 
endowments,  the  good  Dr.chess  was  far  richer  in 
those  fertilizing  experiences  of  love  and  pain,  and 
joy  and  tenderness,  which  are  involved  in  the 
names  of  wife  and  mother.  Left  an  orphan  at  the 
age  of  five  years,  to  struggle  alone  with  life,  in 
the  midst  of  a  selfish  and  intriguing  court,  Renee 
had  early  learned  that  childlike  faith  m  God  as 
her  reconciled  Father — in  His  Word  as  the  guide 
and  stafl"  of  her  heart,  which  she  afterwards  so 
sorely  needed.  They  had  married  her,  as  au 
article  of  some  treaty,  to  a  prince  who  never 
loved  her,  and  who,  if  he  had  cared  to  try,  could 
never  have  been  able  to  appreciate  a  nature  so 
delicate  and  noble  as  hers.  Her  judgment  ripened, 
and  her  character  grew  in  strength  and  dignity 
under  the  pressure  of  the  trial,  whilst  all  the  deep 
tenderness  of  her  nature  was  developetl  by  the 
little  family  which  sprang  up  around  her.  Ilenee 
was  singlehearted.  The  problem  of  her  life  had 
been,  not  at  how  little  personal  inconvenience  she 
could  preserve  her  title  to  the  eternal  inheritance ; 
but  how  she  could  best  encourage  every  resource 
— "  spend  and  be  spent"  in  the  service  of  her 
adored  Sovereign ;  not  how  little  fidelity  required, 
but  how  much  love  could  do. 

She  was  not,  therefore,  content  with  the  safe 


THE   PALACE.  121 

toleration  of  her  own  convictions,  or  even  with 
their  open  recognition ;  she  braved  patiently  all 
the  numberless  petty  tyrannies  of  a  worldly 
family,  and  the  more  serious  annoyances  of  a  des- 
potic and  ungenerous  husband,  in  the  defence  of 
her  brethren  in  the  faith.  Thus  for  many  years 
the  court  of  Ferrara  became  not  only  a  centre  of 
light  for  Italy,  but  a  city  of  refuge  for  oppressed 
Protestants  of  all  nations.  The  Duchess  main- 
tained this  privilege  at  no  mean  cost ;  but  as  long 
as  a  fragment  of  power  remained  to  her,  she  did 
maintain  it.  Tlie  Italian  Reformers  loved  and 
revered  her  as  a  true  mother  in  Israel ;  and  mean- 
while she  continued  lowly  and  single-hearted  as 
a  child,  for  she  dwelt  in  the  presence  of  God. 

The  conversation  Avas  abruptly  interrupted  by 
the  appearance,  at  the  head  of  a  winding  staircase 
which  led  from  one  end  of  the  terrace,  of  a  man 
Avhose  i-ich  doublet  seemed  to  betoken  rank,  and 
whose  short  Spanish  cloak  bespoke  a  nativity  of 
which  the  Reformers  were  apt  to  be  suspicious. 

He  advanced  towards  the  group ;  and  as  soon 
as  the  Duchess  perceived  him,  she  smiled,  and 
offered  him  her  hand,  over  which  he  bent  with  a 
grave,  yet  easy  courtesy. 

"  The  Chevalier  Valdes  is  always  welcome," 
she  said.     "  You  bring  us  tidings  from  Naples  ?" 

The  Spanish  knight  and  minister  looked  in- 
quiringly around.  "We  are  all  friends,"  said  the 
Duchess,  answering  his  glance;  "the  Padre 
Oobino  you  already  know.  Allow  me  to  introduce 
11 


122  THE    REPORMATIOX    IN    ITALY. 

to  you  the  Signor  Buvlamacchi,  pastor  of  the 
church  at  Lucca ;  and  Messer  Ludovico  Paschali, 
with  Avhom  you  may  chance  to  have  further 
intercourse,  as  he  is  on  his  way  to  visit  our 
brethren  in  the  Waldensian  colony  in  Calabria. 
He  has  left  the  army  of  the  emperor  for  that  of 
the  emperor's  Master." 

."  No  chivalry  like  the  army  of  martyrs,"  said 
Valdes,  bowing  to  the  strangers,  and  giving  his 
hand  cordially  to  Paschali ;  "  and  from  all 
accounts,  the  Vaudois  valleys  have  raised  large 
levies  for  that  host." 

"  The  muster-roll  is  written  in  heaven,"  replied 
Paschali ;  "  they  were  a  small  immortal  band  of 
the  King's  own  bodyguard,  who  remained  true 
to  his  colors  when  all  Europe  deserted  thera. 
They  have  their  reward." 

"My  father  never  would  set  his  seal  to  the 
massacres  of  the  Vaudois,"  said  the  Duchess ; 
"  he  commanded  the  restitution  of  their  stolen 
and  confiscated  property.  He  used  to  say,  when- 
ever any  one  objected  to  this,  'Let  them  alone, 
they  arc  better  Christians  than  Ave  are.' " 

"  Honor  to  his  memory !"  said  Yaldes ; 
"  surely  he  Avould  bless  your  highness's  labors, 
had  he  lived  till  now^" 

"  It  often  comforts  me  to  think  so,"  she  replied, 
raising  her  sweet,  sensible  face,  with  a  bright 
smile. 

"  The  best  reward  of  the  Christians  of  the 
valleys,"  observed  Burlamacchi,  "is  to  see  the 


.  THE   PALACE.  123 

dawn  for  whicli  they  have  so  long  watched  at 
length  breaking  over  the  nations." 

"  It  is  indeed  a  morning  of  time,"  said  Valdes  ; 
"every  moment  some  new  hill-top  catches  and 
flashes  back  the  sunrise.  In  Naples  there  is 
scarcely  a  noble  flimily  which  does  not  number 
some  recruits  for  the  good  cause ;  and  in  Sicily, 
too,  'light  is  sown,'  and  is  silently  springing  up 
from  place  to  place." 

"  At  Lucca,  we  have  a  regularly-organized  and 
recognized  church,"  said  Burlamacchi ;  "  and  from 
our  city  the  glorious  news  has  spi*ead  to  Pisa, 
where  once  more  the  Supper  of  the  Lord  has  been 
celebrated  in  its  own  touching  simplicity,  as 
before  the  night  of  Gethsemane." 

"  We  must  be  prudent,"  observed  the  cautious 
Spaniard,  somewhat  imeasily;  "it  is  not  wise  to 
dejjart  unnecessarily  from  time-hallowed  rites." 

"  Time  can  never  hallow  error,"  rejoined  the 
Lucchese  pastor,  vehemently. 

"  And  Florence  ?"  asked  the  gentle  Duchess, 
interposing. 

"  Florence  will  never  receive  anything  from 
Pisa  !"  replied  Burlamacchi,  bitterly. 

"  Nevertheless,  there  are  true  disciples  there," 
said  Valdes ;  "and  from  Modena,  Faenza,  Imola,  Bo- 
logna, Cremona,  Milan, Genoa,  and  even  from  Rome 
itself,  I  have  letters  full  of  the  richest  promise." 

"  Brucioli's  Italian  Bible  is  worth  an  army  of 
propagandists !"  observed  Calvin,  who  could  no 
longer  sec  to  read. 


124  THE   EEFOEMATION   IN   ITALY. 

"  True,"  responded  Valdes,  courteously  saluting 
the  Picard  Reformer ;  "  it  finds  its  way  into 
homes  and  hearts  where  no  other  messenger  of 
God  could  penetrate.  Truer  spouses  of  Christ 
arc  nourishing  in  the  depths  of  many  convents 
than  they  ever  knew  before." 

"  Alas !"  sighed  the  Duchess,  "  they  will  have 
much  to  suffer." 

"  The  grace  of  God  is  sufficient  for  them," 
remarked  Calvin. 

"  Yes,  God  keeps  the  soul — but  I  long  to  save 
them  the  fiery  trial,"  said  the  compassionate 
Duchess. 

"The  fragile  lamp  can  but  break,  signora," 
said  Olympia,  in  a  low  voice,  "  and  the  Divine 
light  can  not  be  extinguished." 

"Do  you  specifically  controvert  the  Papal 
errors  ?"  asked  Valdes,  addressing  Paschali. 

"  I  do  not,"  Avas  the  reply ;  "  I  believe  that 
error  is  nothing,  except  as  attached  to  sin.  I 
trust,  therefore,  that  the  truth  of  God,  simply 
spoken,  will  of  itself  reprove  sin  and  nullify  error. 
Light  not  only  dispels  darkness,  but  annihilates 
it." 

"  It  has  been  the  method  of  all  our  Italian  Re- 
formers," said  Valdes ,"  and  it  certainly  has  pros- 
pered w^onderfully." 

"  I  believe,"  observed  Paschali,  "  that  there  is 
not  a  city  throughout  the  land,  nor  a  village 
buried  amongst  the  rocky  recesses  of  the  Apen- 
nines, nor  a  monastery  shadowed  beneath  the 


THE   PALACE.  125 

very  wall  of  Rome,  where  the  gospel  of  the  free 
and  liberating  grace  of  Christ  has  not  penetrated, 
and  drawn  hearts  to  the  Saviour." 

"Never  was  there  such  a  burst  of  life !"  ex- 
claimed Burlamacchi.  "  It  vivifies  all  sciences, 
and  glorifies  all  arts ;  painters  paint  and  poets 
sing  as  never  the  world  saw  or  heard  before ; 
tongues  of  flame  descend  on  millions — it  is  a  day 
of  Pentecost  for  all  nations !  Oh,  if  Dante  could 
only  have  lived  to  see  the  day  which  shall  make 
her  with  the 

*  natura  malvagia  e  ria 
Che  mai  non  si  erapie  la  bramosa  voglia 
E  dopo  il  jiasto  ha  piu  fame  che  pria, 
morin  cou  doglial  '  "* 

"Everything  is  in  our  favor,"  rejoined  Valdes: 
"  all  Italy's  best  and  greatest  and  wisest  are  with 
ns." 

"  And  God  is  with  us,"  interposed  Calvin, 
gravely,  "  which  is  much  more." 

The  Duchess  looked  up  with  her  quiet,  intelli- 
gent smile. 

"  Is  it  true,"  Paschali  asked,  "  that  in  Venice 
the  adherents  of  the  evangelical  faith  have  j^eti- 
tioned  the  Senate  for  liberty  of  public  worship  ?" 

"  It  is,"  replied  Valdes.  "  I  have  just  received 
a  letter  from  that  prince  of  letters  and  true 
servant  of  God,  Pietro  Carnesecchi — ^full  of  the 
brightest  and  most  confident  anticipations." 

"  The  flame  can  not  be  stifled  much  longer !" 
Burlamacchi  exclaimed ;  "  Italy  will   burst  her 

*  "Divina  Commedia,"  c.  1,  p.  97 — "Inferno." 
11* 


126  TUE   EEFOEMATION   IN   ITALY. 

chains,  and  once  more  sit  a  queen  among  the  na- 
tions. God  himself  is  setting  free  the  hearts  of 
her  sons,  and  the  freed  hearts  will  create  free 
institutions.  The  gospel  will  force  a  channel  for 
itself.  But  are  they  not  still  somewhat  fettered 
to  the  mass  in  Venice  ?"  he  continued,  addressing 
Valdes. 

"They  are  Lutherans — no  fanatical  Anabap- 
tists," was  the  hasty  reply. 

Again  the  soothing  voice  of  the  Duchess  inter. 
posed :  "  Even  in  the  Sacred  College,  it  is  re- 
ported we  have  friends." 

"  The  people  that  sat  in  darkness  have  seen  a 
great  light,  and  to  them  which  sat  in  the  region 
and  the  shadow  of  death,  light  is  sprung  up," 
said  Calvin ;  "  but  let  them  come  out  of  Babylon, 
if  they  Avould  not  be  partakers  of  her  plagues."* 

"  We  must  have  prudence,  my  friend,"  replied 
the  courtly  Valdes.  "  Prudence  is  the  virtue  of 
high  places.  What  would  be  cowardice  in  a  pi'i- 
vate  soldier  is  but  caution  in  the  general." 

"  We  are  all  privates  in  the  army  of  the  great 
King,  and  what  would  be  treason  in  the  peasant 
is  treason  in  the  prince.  Christ's  witnesses  are 
martyrs,  not  diplomatists,"  was  the  rejoinder  of 
the  future  founder  of  the  theoci'atic  republic. 

"  But  the  Cardinals  Contarini,  Marone,  and 
Pole,  are  with  us  in  all  essential  points,"  Valdes 


*  I  quote  what  was,  I  believe,  the  common  interpretation  of  the 
Keformers  of  the  sixteenth  century. 


THE   PALACE.  127 

replied ;  "  and  we  may  well  tolerate  what  our 
Master  can." 

"  If  they  are  not  ashamed  to  own  Hub,  we  will 
certainly  not  be  ashamed  to  own  them,"  said 
Calvin ;  "  but  if  the  day  of  decision  came,  and 
the  question  lay  between  burning  and  being 
burned,  on  which  side  would  the  Borderers 
be?" 

"  The  hour  will  reveal  the  men,"  was  the 
reply.  "  When  the  danger  comes,  the  invisible 
armies  will  manifest  themselves." 

"  Cardinals,  popes,  literary  men;  so  many 
wise,  so  many  noble,  on  our  side — even  the  very 
nobles  of  Babylon,"  observed  Calvin,  dryly — 
"  we  could  almost  stand  alone  without  super- 
natural aid ;  but  where  is  the  enemy  ?  If  the 
Church  is  so  universal,  where  is  the  world?" 

"Who  knows,"  exclaimed  Burlamacchi,  exult- 
ingly,  "  that  the  time  may  not  be'come  wlien  the 
kingdoms  of  this  world  shall  become  the  king- 
doms of  our  God  and  of  His  Christ — that  this 
may  not  be  the  dawn  of  the  morning  without 
cloiids !" 

"WIio  knows!"  they  all  exclaimed.  "We 
who  watch  shall  see." 

There  was  a  j^ause ;  the  long,  level  streak  of 
simset  light  was  flist  fading  from  the  western 
marshes  of  the  Ferrarese,  and  before  the  party 
separated  for  the  night,  the  Duchess  requested 
Olympia  Morata  to  improvise  a  song. 

She  took  up  her  guitar,  and,  after  gazing  a  few 


128  THE   EEFOEMATION   IN  ITALY. 

minutes  at  the  eastern  towers  of  the  city,  behind 
which  the  moon  was  slowly  rising,  a  smile  came 
over  her  glowing  face,  and  in  a  rich,  touching 
contralto  voice,  she  sang — 

THE   SONG   OF   THE   WALDENSES. 

"  '  Watchman,  what  of  the  night?' 

We  have  waited  long  for  the  day — 
From  time  to  time  came  flashes  of  light, 
But  they  died  in  the  dark  away . 

"  Some  breathings  of  life  have  stirr'd, 
But  in  blood  th»y  soon  were  crush'd  ; 
And  we  caught  the  song  of  an  early  bird, 
But  its  voice  was  quickly  hush'd. 

"Joy  to  the  patient  and  brave! 
The  dawn  is  breaking  now ! 
It  crisps  the  crests  of  the  purple  wave — 
It  crimsons  the  mountain'a  brow. 

"It  gilds  the  towers  with  its  rays — 
It  cheereth  the  narrow  street — 
It  waketh  a  tumult  of  work  and  praise, 
And  a  stir  of  busy  feet. 

"Joy,  joy !  it  comcth  up.. 

Wider  and  brighter  and  higher ; — 
It  poureth  life  in  tlie  meek  flower's  cup — 
It  tippeth  the  peaks  with  fire. 

"  We  have  watch'd  in  tlie  darkness  long, 
But  the  day  is  come  at  last. 
The  world  o'erfloweth  witli  light  and  song — 
The  night  and  the  cold  are  past. 

"  The  light,  the  light  is  come  I 

Light  on  the  chain  of  the  slave  ; 
The  liglit  of  God  on  the  laborer's  home — 
Liglit  on  the  martyr's  grave!'  " 

She  ceased.  The  Reformers  took  leave.  Ochino 
had  Avithdrawn  early,  v.'caried  with  his  energetic 
preaching.     The  moon  had  gone  some  way  on 


THE   PALACE.  129 

her  journey,  with  her  one  faithful  star :  her  image 
floated  in  the  river  far  below.  The  night  breeze 
rustled  the  vine-leaves  overhead,  and  shook  the 
clusters  of  purple  grapes.  No  one  spoke  until 
the  little  Leonora,  clinging  closer  to  her  mother, 
whispered — "  Mother,  how  beautiful  it  is !  I  think 
God  sings  to  us  in  the  silence." 

The  children  kissed  "  good  night,"  and  Olym- 
pia  and  the  Duchess  were  left  alone. 

Olympia  sat  on  a  cushion  at  her  lady's  feet. 
The  Duchess  smoothed  back  the  hair  from  her 
forehead,  and  said,  "  You  are  young,  and  full  of 
hopes,  my  child." 

"  I  am  full  of  trust,  signora !"  was  the  reply ; 
*'  God  rules,  and  the  right  must  triumph." 

"  Yes,  that  is  a  glorious  certainty — the  right 
must  triumph,  because  God  is  almighty ;  but  He 
only  knows  through  what  conflicts !"  she  added, 
mournfully.  "  I  feel,  Olympia,  as  if  the  evan- 
gelical cause  had  a  baptism  to  pass  through  in 
Italy — a  baptism  of  .weakness :  we  must  drink  of 
the  cup  He  drank  of.  We  are  too  strong  in  our 
own  strength ;  too  wise  in  our  own  Avisdom  :  we 
think  too  much  of  the  mighty;  too  little  of  the 
Almighty." 

"The  wisest  are  indeed  as  children  before 
Him,"  rejoined  Olympia;  "but  He  does  not, 
surely  give  strength  in  vain !" 

"Then  these  melancholy  divisions!"  continued 
the  Duchess.  "  The  name  of  Pisa  is  as  a  curse 
to  Florence ;  a  Lutheran  is  a  Papist  to  a  Zuinglian, 


130  THE   REFORMATIOJf   IN   ITALY. 

and  a  Zuinglian  little  better  than  a  heathen  to  a 
Lutheran.  I  fear,  if  the  pressure  were  removed 
from  without,  our  cause  would  not  expand,  but 
fall  to  pieces.  I  think  we  must  drink  deeper  of 
the  Master's  bitter  cup,  before  we  shall  have 
more  of  His  spirit.  Suifering  is  the  school  of 
love." 

"  But  not  of  /iope,"  replied  Olympia.  "  The 
pinions  of  love  are  only  bathed  in  the  bitter 
waters,  and  she  rises  refreshed ;  the  delicate 
wings  of  hope  are  weighed  down  and  crushed. 
Your  highness  will  teach  us  to  love,  and  we  will 
teach  you  to  hope.  Surely,"  she  continued,  em- 
phatically, "  God  does  not  spread  our  table  with 
painted  food — Pie  does  not  fill  the  cup  with  hope 
and  joy,  that  He  may  dash  it  from  the  parched 
lips  untasted !" 

"  He  does  not  tantalize,  but  He  does  try,"  re- 
plied Renee,  gently.  "  If  I  can  not  hope  as  you 
do,  Olympia,  it  is  not  that  I  distrust  our  Father's 
tenderness,  but  our  insight.  I  do  not  doubt  about 
the  result,  but  the  process." 

The  Signora  Morata  retired ;  but  long  after- 
wards  the  Duchess  might  have  been  seen  pacing 
the  terrace  alone ;  and  in  the  moonlight,  per- 
chance the  angels  saw  a  pale  face,  wet  with  tears, 
turned  trustfully  to  heaven,  and  heard  the  imut- 
tered  prayer,  "  Father,  Thou  lovest  Thine  own 
better  than  Thy  child  can;  the  cup  which  Thou 
givest,  Thou  wilt  give  us  strength  to  drink !" 


III. 

THE  PEASANT. 

The  golden  gleam  had  faded  from  the  rich  chest- 
nut forests,  just  lingered  on  the  edge  of  the  up- 
per pme- woods,  and  had  melted  into  a  crimson 
glow  on  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Calabrian  Apen- 
nines, Avhen  the  little  Lois  came  tripping  down 
from  the  upland  pastures  with  her  father's 
goats. 

As  she  passed  through  the  dim  aisles  of  the 
tall  old  woods,  their  shadows  fell  heavily  on  her 
heart ;  and  to  make  a  sunshine  for  herself,  she 
began  carolling  one  of  the  old  chants  of  her 
people,  which  they  used  to  sing  together  in  Avinter 
over  the  crackling  pine-logs. 

The  song  was  not  in  the  Calahrese  dialect, 
and  it  did  not  tell  of  love,  or  war,  or  knightly 
prowess ;  the  traditions  of  Lois'  peojole  were  of 
another  stamp,  and  her  little  heart  rose  and  grew 


132  THE    REFORMATION    IN    ITALY. 

courageous  as  she  sang  of  the  warfare  in  which 
death  is  victory,  and  the  holy  land  beyond  the 
stars,  and  God. 

Soon  she  came  out  of  the  forest  on  a  wild 
thicket  of  myrtle,  arbutus,  and  oleander :  the 
glossy  leaves  shone  in  the  last  gleams  of  light, 
the  fragrance  of  the  flowers  came  freely  out  in 
the  still  air,  the  birds  were  singing  their  last 
songs  ;  at  the  entrance  of  the  wooded  valley  the 
meadows  sloped  out  on  a  low  beach,  on  Avliich 
the  Avaves  came  up  quietly ;  between  the  clifis 
the  level  line  of  the  purple  sea  melted  into  the 
sky ;  whilst,  above,  the  crescent  of  the  young 
moon  floated  like  a  silver "  boat  in  a  golden 
flood. 

There  was  one  point,  however,  in  the  valley, 
on  which  Lois  and  the  goats  were  more  intent 
than  on  all  the  rest — the  little  wooden  hut,  from 
the  windows  of  which,  amidst  its  orchard  of 
oranges  and  lemons,  and  the  elms  and  poplars 
festooned  with  vines,  gleamed  the  pine-torch 
which  was  Lois'  guiding  star.  Above  the  hut 
rose  abrupt  precipices  of  gray  rock,  in  the  crev- 
ices and  clefts  of  which  sprang  the  aloe  and 
flowering  cactus ;  while  the  wild  goat  browsed 
on  their  edges. 

As  she  came  out  on  the  meadow  cleared  by 
her  father's  toil,  a  stranger  met  her  coming  up 
from  the  beach,  with  the  wallet  of  a  wayfirer. 
lie  leant  on  his  long  oaken  stafl",  and  looking 
towards  the  sea,  greeted  her  kindly. 


BRINGING  HOME  THE  GOATS. 


Tales  and  Sketches. 


THE   PEASANT.  133 

"  That  was  a  sweet  song  you  were  singing,  my 
child.  I  heard  the  air  once  before,  many  hundred 
miles  away." 

"My  grandmother  taught  it  mc,"  she  said. 
"  Our  fathers  brought  it  with  them  from  the  val- 
leys in  the  north." 

"  That  was  long  ago,"  the  stranger  answered. 
"  Do  yoii  live  near  this  ?" 

She  led  the  way  to  the  hut ;  her  mother  stood 
at  the  door  watching  for  her. 

"  You  are  late  this  evening,  Lois." 

"  Yes,  the  goats  would  browse  as  they  came 
along,  and  I  went  out  of  my  way  with  Martha. 
They  say  the  king's  troops  are  abroad,  and  she 
was  afraid  to  go  home  alone." 

The  stranger  was  hospitably  welcomed,  A 
supper  of  maize-cakes,  olives,  and  goat's-milk 
cheese,  with  a  skin  of  native  Avinc,  was  quickly 
spread  before  him ;  and  as  he  ate  and  rested,  he 
had  leisure  to  observe  his  hosts. 

Two  children  were  asleep  in  a  crib  by  the  cor- 
ner ;  the  mother's  attention  was  divided  between 
her  spinning-wheel  and  her  baby's  cradle  ;  the 
old  blind  grandmother  sat  knitting  in  the  win- 
dow.  Lois  was  soon  busied  prepai-ing  her 
father's  supper ;  whilst  a  brown-skinned,  bright- 
eyed  urchin  knelt  before  the  pine-logs  on  the 
hearth  peeling  chestnuts. 

Before  long  the  sheep  and  goats  were  safely 
folded,  and  the  flxther  of  the  family  came  in  Vt^ith 
his  eldest  son.  He  was  a  quick-eyed,  strongly- 
12 


134  THE   REFORMATION   IN   ITALY. 

built  man,  with  limbs  knit  and  featm*es  bronzed 
by  toil.  At  first  he  regarded  the  stranger  rather 
suspiciously :  there  was  something  military  in  his 
air  which  he  did  not  like.  But  his  suspicions 
were  quickly  disarmed,  as  the  traveler,  rising, 
gi'asped  his  hand  cordially,  and  said,  in  the 
Vaudois  dialect: — 

"I  bring  you  the  blessing  of  the  Highest,  from 
the  valleys  of  your  fathers.  The  secret  of  the 
Lord  is  with  them  that  fear  Him." 

The  efiect  of  this  watchword  was  electrical. 
The  whole  family  quickly  grouped  around  their 
guest;  even  the  old  grandmother  let  fall  her 
threads,  and,  raising  her  sightless  eyes  to  heaven, 
exclaimed,  "  Blessed  be  he  that  cometh  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord  !" 

"Amen!"  said  the  stranger,  who  was  no  other 
than  Ludovico  Paschali,  on  a  mission  from  the 
Vaudois  of  the  Piedmontese  valleys  to  their 
brethren  in  Calabria.  From  that  moment  the 
stranger  was  a  brother  to  the  simple  Christian 
peasants. 

"You  have  had  a  glorious  post  in  the  great 
army,"  said  Paschali,  "and  you  have  kept  your 
trust  well." 

"  We  were  a  little,  lowly  band,"  the  father  re- 
plied, "  when  our  fathers  abandoned  their  moun- 
tain-home in  the  north  to  flee  from  the  SAVord 
of  the  persecutor,  and  were  led,  by  ways  that 
they  know  not,  to  the  valleys  of  Calabria. 
Twa  hundred  years  have  passed  since  thenj  our 


THE   PEASANT.  135 

flocks  and  herds  have  increased,  and  the  Lord 
has  given  ns  grace  in  the  sight  of  our  enemies ; 
but  we  have  not  been  so  faithful  as  we  might. 
We  are  a  poor  and  unlettered  people :  our  pastors 
died,  and  none  arose  in  their  places  ;  the  way 
from  our  ancient  dwelling-place  was  long,  and 
beset  with  many  dangers ;  and  as  the  years  passed 
on,  and  troubles  came  on  the  Alpine  valleys,  our 
brethren  foi-got  us,  and  we  were  left  without 
guides  in  the  land  of  the  stranger." 

"But  you  did  not  abandon  the  treasure  of 
your  fathers  ?"  Paschali  said. 

"  Thank  God,  no ! — we  did  not  put  out  the 
lio-ht :  but  we  hid  it  under  the  bushel,  until,  I 
fear,  with  many  of  us  it  has  waxed  dim.  Many 
of  us  Avere  led  astray  to  frequent  the  idolatrous 
worship  of  the  country; — we  had  Avives  and 
children,  and  Ave  feared  the  oppressor.  Like 
Naaman  of  old,  Ave  Avould  bow  down  in  the 
house  of  our  master's  god,  and  Avorship  Jehovah 
in  our  own.  But  I  fear  it  has  not  prospered ;  the 
fire  has  smouldered  in  the  close  place,  and  our 
hearts  have  grown  chill." 

"The  sun  is  still  in  the  heavens,"  answered 
Paschali,  gravely ;  "  you  have  only  to  lift  your 
hearts  up  towards  it  to  feel  its  Avarmth.  The 
loA^e  of  God,  you  see,  still  Avatches  over  you, 
and  your  brethren  from  the  valleys  have  sent  me 
to  bring  you  the  message  of  peace." 

The  old  grandmother  clasped  her  hands,  and 
exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  fervor,  "  Truly,  God  is 


136  THE  BEFORMATION   IN   ITALY. 

gi*acious  to  His  jieople !   The  Lord  hath   been 
mindful  of  us — He  will  bless  us." 

It  was  soon  arranged  that  a  meeting  should 
be  held  that  very  evening ;  the  visit  of  a  pastor 
■was  too  rare  a  blessing  to  be  neglected. 

The  father  and  son,  and  even  little  Lois,  has- 
tened with  pine-torches  to  cottage  after  cottage 
scattered  among  the  hills ;  and  in  an  hour'k  time 
an  assembly  of  eager  and  attentive  hearers  were 
gathered  in  the  peasant's  hut,  to  receive  the  teach- 
ing of  Paschali. 

Old  men,  with  tottering  limbs  and  thin  locks  ; 
fathers  of  famiUes,  with  their  little  ones ;  rough 
men,  hardened  by  out-door  labor,  and  young 
muscular  mountaineers,  gathered  around  tlie 
teacher — a  congregation  of  teachable  and  simple 
hearts. 

He  took  a  clasped  Bible  from  his  breast. 

"  It  is  the  Book — it  is  the  Book !  "  they  mur- 
mured, and  every  head  was  bowed  in  reverence 
as  he  read  the  words  of  life.  Every  sound  Avas 
hushed  when  he  closed  the  volume,  and  poured 
out  his  heart  before  Him  who  was  their  God,  and 
the  God  of  their  fathers. 

He  took  as  the  text  of  his  simple  sermon,  "As 
an  eagle  stirreth  up  her  nest,  fluttereth  over  her 
young,  spreadeth  abroad  her  wings,  taketh  them, 
beareth  them  on  her  wings ;  so  the  Lord  did 
lead  him,  and  there  was  no  strange  god  Avith 
him."  And  as  he  unfolded  before  them  tlie 
wonderful  love  of'Hira  who  had  given  "  His  Son, 


THE  PEASANT.  13V 

His  only  Son,  whom  He  loved,"  as  a  ransom  for 
them,  and  had  borne  with  them,  and  fed  them, 
all  the  days  of  old,  and  then  pointed  out  to  them 
their  own  coldness  and  ingratitude,  and  urged 
them  by  His  patient  faithfulness  to  be  faithful  to 
Him,  to  stand  boldly  on  the  Lord's  side,  irre- 
pressible sobs  of  humiliation  and  gratitude  burst 
from  many  a  manly  breast.  •  Then  he  told  them 
of  the  dawn  that  was  breaking  over  the  nations; 
how  the  blessed  tidings  of  free  redemption  had 
thrilled  and  liberated  thousands  of  fettered 
hearts;  how  many  had  counted  not  their  lives 
dear  unto  themselves  for  the  testimony  of  Jesus 
and  the  word  of  His  grace;  how,  not  in  Angrogna 
and  Pragela,  and  the  Piedmontese  valleys  alone, 
but  throughout  the  world,  the  heavenly  dews 
were  falling,  and  in  the  desolate  places  rich  har- 
vests were  springing  for  heaven,  and  the  Word 
of  God  had  become  the  dearest  treasure  of  thou- 
sands of  souls — old  men  raised  their  hands  to 
heaven  and  blessed  God  that  He  had  visited  His 
people,  tears  of  joy  ran  down  rough  cheeks,  and 
young  hearts  beat  high  with  thankfulness  and 
loyal  purposes  of  fidelity,  and  devotion,  and  en- 
durance. The  simple  service  concluded  with  one 
of  the  traditional  hymns  of  the  Waldenses.  At 
first  many  hearts  were  too  full  to  join ;  but  ere 
it  closed,  a  chorus  of  triumphant  praise  swelled 
through  the  valley,  such  as  those  hills  had  never 
rung  back  before. 

It  was  late  when  the  assembly  broke  up. 
12* 


138      THE  REFORMATION  IN  ITALY. 

The  next  morning,  Pascliali  set  out  on  a  tour 
of  the  Vaudois  villages. 

Paschali  and  his  friend  Negrino  labored  long 
among  those  simple  childi'en  of  the  valleys.  They 
had  abundant  fruit  of  their  labors.  The  Spirit 
of  God  was  poured  forth  on  the  people,  and  the 
Vaudois  villages  of  Calabria  were  filled  Avith 
humble  hearts  and  holy  deeds,  and  the  voice  of 
prayer  and  thanksgiving. 

This  time  their  light  was  not  hidden,  and 
many  around  them  learned  from  them  to  glorify 
their  Father  in  heaven.  We  shall  see  ere  lonfif 
how  sorely  this  strength  was  needed. 


IV. 

REFORMERS  IN  THE  CHURCH. 

In  a  small  inner  chamber  of  a  Roman  palace, 
fitted  np  with  all  the  apparatus  of  luxurious 
piety,  sat  Vittoria  Colonna,  widow  of  the  Marquis 
of  Pescara,  the  friend  of  Bembo,  Coutarini,  and 
Pole,  whom  Michael  Angelo  revered  as  a  glorified 
being. 

Everything  about  her  was  subdued — toned 
down,  as  if  to  harmonize  with  her  own  chastened 
beauty.  The  room  was  full  of  a  faint  aromatic 
perfume ;  from  the  court  below  was  borne  the 
languid  trickling  of  many  fountains  ;  through  the 
crevices  of  the  Venetian  shutters  the  light  fell 
quietly,  on  her  fine,  but  worn  features,  on  the 
black  folds  of  her  nun's  habit,  on  alabaster  Ma- 
donnas and  bronze  crucifixes,  and  on  a  "  Holy 
Family  "  of  Raphael's,  in  his  early  spiritual  Peru- 
gino  coloring. 

She  sat,  her  pale  cheek  resting  on  her  hand, 
her  eyes  fixed  on  the  head  befoi'e  her,  Avith  its 
crown  of  thorns,  and  in  the  other  hand  a  rainia- 
ture   of   her  husband,   her    thoughts    perhaps 


140  THE    EEF0KMATI0:N    in    ITALY. 

divided  between  the  two  images  of  her  heart — 
Him  whom  not  having  seen,  she  loved ;  and  him 
whom  having  loved,  she  had  lost. 

She  could  not  be  much  past  fifty,  yet  she  had 
been  twenty  years  a  widow.  She  was  a  woman 
of  great  constancy  of  purpose  and  afiection. 
Betrothed  at  the  age  of  three  years,  her  childish 
dreams,  her  enthusiastic  girlish  visions,  the  deep 
love  of  her  womanhood,  the  passionate  agony  of 
her  first  sorrow,  the  patient  suffering  of  her  long 
widowhood, — all  had  flowed  from  one  source, 
and  flowed  back  to  it. 

Many  years  before,  she  had  sung — 

"  lo  sono,  io  son  ben  dessa,  or  vedi  come 

M'  ha  cangiato  il  dolor  fiero  ed  atroce. 

Ch'  a  fatica  la  voce 

Puo  dar  di  me  conoseenza  vera. 

Lassa'  ch'  al  tuo  partir  parti  veloce 

Dalle  guance,  dagli  occhi,  e  dalle  chiome 

Questa  a  cui  davi  come 

Tu  di  beltade,  cd  io  n'andare  altera 

Che  me'l  credea,  perche  in  tal  pregio  t'  era 
****** 

Com'  6  ch'io  viva  quando  mi  remembra 
Ch'empio  scpolcro;  e  invidiosa  polvc 
Contamina  e  dissolve 
Le  delicate  alabastrine  membra."* 

Her  cheek  was  indeed  hollow  and  wasted,  the 
few  locks  that  escaped  fi-oni  her  snowy  linen 

*  The  following  may  servo  as  a  rough  translation: — 

"  Yes,  I  am  she  you  loved — I  still  am  she, 
Though  wasted  thus  by  years  of  changeless  woe — 
Knowcst  thou  not  her  voice  who  loved  thee  so? 
When  thou  wast  taken,  love,  all  loveliness 
Faded  from  cheek,  and  eye,  and  flowing  tress; 

The  beauty  that  thou  gavest  fled  with  thee." 


EEFOEMEKS  IN  THE  OHUECH,      141 

hood  were  gray,  her  eyes  were  sunken  and 
dimmed  ;  yet  in  the  dehcate  features,  the  classic- 
al head,  the  Hps  which,  when  they  had  closed 
for  ever,  Michael  Angclo  longed  to  press  as  those 
of  a  sculptured  saint,  there  were  traces  of  the 
noblest  beauty.  * 

Vittoria's  mind  was  vigorous  as  her  heart  was 
passionate.  Hers  had  been  a  life  of  realities — 
real  love,  real  joy,  real  conflicts,  real  bereave- 
ment and  desolation  ;  and  the  reality  of  twenty 
years  of  Avidowhood  was  only  to  be  solaced  by 
the  reality  of  j)iety.  Hearty  and  intelligent  sym- 
pathy in  the  visions  and  labors  of  the  men  of 
genius  who  loved  to  throng  around  her,  earnest 
interest  in  the  cause  of  religion  in  this  world  and 
its  promises  in  the  next; — such  were  her  consola- 
tions and  occupations. 

Her  piety  was  not,  indeed,  so  simple,  and 
therefore  not  so  fruitful,  as  that  of  the  Duchess  of 
Ferrara.  Christ  was  less  its  centre,  His  word  less 
its  rule.     She  rested  more  in  ideas  and  feelings. 

In  ascending  to  heaven,  her  devotions  were  apt 
to  be  entangled  in  images — in  descending  to  her 
fellow-creatures,  to  be  lost  in  mists  of  emotion; 
and  although  the  clouds  were  often  sunlit,  and 
the  mists  transfused  with  prismatic  colors,  the 
pure  daylight  which  they  intercepted  was  at  once 
more  beautiful  and  better  to  work  by. 

Like  Contarini  and  Pole,  and  the  other  Reform- 
ers within  the  Church,  she  united  much  of  the 
simplicity  of  evangelical  faith  with  an  enthusiastic 


142  THE   KEFOEIIATION   IN   ITALY. 

devotion  to  her  ideal  of  the  Church,  embodied  in 
the  Papal  system.  The  honor  of  her  Chm'ch 
was  to  her  as  the  honor  of  her  family  ;  she  climg 
to  the  traditions  of  her  infancy  -with  all  the  aiFec- 
tionate  tenacity  of  her  nature;  she  was  as  scru- 
pulously and  enthusiastically  loyal  to  her  idea  of 
the  Church  as  to  the  memory  of  her  husband. 

As  she  sat  thus,  the  door  of  the  room  was 
opened  softly;  she  turned  her  head,  and  two 
visitors  were  ushered  into  this  sanctuary,  where 
only  her  most  intimate  friends  were  admitted. 

One  was  attired  in  doublet  and  hose,  the  other 
in  a  clerical  costume.  One  spoke  with  a  tinge  of 
the  soft  Venetian  dialect,  the  other  with  a  slightly 
foreign  accent.  They  were  Pietro  Carnesecchi 
and  Cardinal  Pole. 

They  had  not  been  there  long,  when  another 
priest,  with  peculiarly  mild  and  courteous  ex- 
IDression  and  manners,  Avas  announced  as  Cardinal 
Contarini.  They  were  all  intimate  friends  of  one 
another  and  of  the  Marchioness.  Daring  her 
previous  residence  at  Rome,  and  whilst  she  had 
lived  in  the  convent  at  Viterbo,  where  Pole  was 
legate,  they  had  often  met  and  shared  in  religious 
exercises,  and  visions  as  to  the  future  of  the 
Church. 

The  conversation  was  animated  and  interesting, 
although  perhaps  more  artistic  than  edifying. 
Much  of  that  pleasant  gossip  was  introduced 
which  becomes  history  when  attached  to  great 
historical  names.    There  was  the  last  statue  of 


REFOUMATORS  IN  THE  CHURCH.      143 

Michael  Augelo,  the  last  fresco  of  the  young 
Raphael,  to  be  discussed. 

"  How  glorious  our  old  Rome  will  be !"  ex- 
claimed Vittoria  ;  "  the  heretics  almost  deserve 
heaven  for  the  penance  they  undergo  on  earth  in 
losino-  our  sublime  ceremonial." 

"  Heaven  was  earned  for  us  by  suffermgs  of 
another  stamp  than  the  deprivation  of  the  luxuries 
of  the  eye  and  ear,"  said  Contarini,  gravely. 

"I  spoke  hastily,"  said  the  Marchioness, 
coloring,  but  with  a  sweet  humility ;  "  thanks, 
father,  for  the  rebuke." 

"It  is  little  self-denial,"  observed  Pole,  sar- 
castically, "  for  men  to  whom  the  gift  of  sight  is 
denied,  to  renounce  the  pleasures  of  seeing." 

"  Many  of  the  Lutherans  are  men  of  the  finest 
taste  and  feeling,"  answered  the  candid  Contarini. 
"  We  must  not  quarrel  much  Avith  those  who,  in 
remedying  the  sins  and  sorrows  of  the  Avorld, 
have  little  leisure  to  revel  in  its  beauty.  If  we 
could  only  meet,  all  might  be  well." 

"Meantime,"  said  Vittoria  Colonna,  "never 
will  there  have  been  such  a  solemn  and  joyful 
Easter  as  this  year  :  the  music  will  be  angelic." 

"  To  angelic  hearts,  signora,"  observed  Cardinal 
Pole. 

"  What  a  miracle  of  grandeur  and  beauty  St. 
Peter's  will  be,"  she  resumed,  "when  it  is 
finished!  it  will  be  fit  to  transfer  entire  to  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem," 

"  Our  fathers  killed  the  prophets,  and  we  build 


144  THE    REFORMATION   IN    ITALY. 

their  sepulchres,"  murmured  Carnesecchi,  who 
was  turnmg  over  some  architectural  designs. 

"  I  trust  there  are  many  hearts  in  Rome," 
Contai'iui  said,  "  which  are  indeed  risen  with  the 
Saviour— to  which  the  Easter  festival  is  the  com- 
memoration of  a  glorious  r^ity;  but  for  me 
there  is  no  festival  as  long  as  Christendom  re- 
mains torn  with  these  melancholy  schisms." 

"  Woe  to  the  presumptuous  spirits  that  have 
dared  to  rend  the  seamless  vesture !"  exclaimed 
Vittoria ;  "  to  point  a  sword  at  the  breast  of 
their  mother !" 

"  And  woe,  too,"  said  Carnesecchi,  "  to  the 
mother  who  made  her  own  children  pass  through 
the  fire  in  honor  of  golden  images  !" 

"  There  is  need  of  reformation,  truly,"  conceded 
Cardinal  Pole ;  "  but  we  must  recur  to  the  ancient 
traditions,  not  rend  ourselves  from  them ;  we  must 
retrace  our  steps,  and  not  rush  wildly  on  the 
unknown." 

"  They  should  have  waited  for  a  general  coun- 
cil," said  Contarini  ;  "  but  even  now  the  rebels 
may  be  won  back  to  the  standards,  if  we  can  but 
bring  them  to  a  parley  ;  something  must  be  con- 
ceded ;  the  Catholic  Church  is  not  so  frail  that  a 
few  repairs  will  make  her  totter." 

"  Cardinal  Contarini  thinks  everything  can  be 
effected  by  conferences,"  observed  Carnesecchi — 
"  that  any  disease  can  be  cured  if  the  physicians 
will  only  have  a  consultation  about  it ;  but  what 
if,  in  the  first  place,  the  physicians  will  not  meet 


REFORMATORS  IN  THE  OHURCH.      145 

— in  the  second,  they  can  not  agree — and  in  the 
third,  the  disease  is  past  medicine  ?  And,  firstly, 
how  will  you  get  the  council  together  ?" 

"  I  trust  the  preliminary  negotiations  will  soon 
be  completed,"  replied  Coutariui.  "  His  holiness 
seems  favorable,  but  Christendom  is  a  heavy 
body  to  move." 

"  And  meantime,"  remarked  Carnesecchi,  dryly, 
"to  every  pious  soul  that  asks  counsel  of  you  in 
perplexities  of  faith,  you  must  reply,  '  Wait  a 
little,  until  we  can  collect  some  six  or  seven 
hundred  reverend  fathers  together,  and  then,  if 
we  can  agree  about  it,  I  will  let  you  know  what 
you  must  do  to  be  saved.' " 

"  Salvation  is  a  simpler  thing,"  answered  Con- 
tarini,  seriously ;  "we  have  the  words  of  the 
Saviour  and  the  apostles." 

"  Will  an  oecumenical  council  give  us  more?" 
demanded  Carnesecchi. 

"  It  is  a  question  of  interpretation,"  interposed 
Pole.  "  We  must  have  a  standard  of  faith,  and 
the  standard  must  be  fixed  by  the  authorities." 

"  But  supposing  the  council  should  be  divided, 
as  councils  have  been  before  now  ?"  pursued  the 
Venetian. 

"  Signer  Carnesecchi  surely  forgets  the  prom- 
ised aid  of  the  Divine  Spirit,  to  teach  us  all 
things,"  rejoined  Cardinal  Pole,  rather  haughtily. 

"  The  Holy  Spirit  teaches  tis  by  bringing  the 
words  of  the  Saviour  to  remembrance,"  was 
Carnesecchi's  reply ;  "  not  by  giving  new  revela. 


146  THE   EEFOEMATION   IN  ITALY. 

tions,  but  by  unsealing  the  old.  The  last  court 
of  appeal,  therefore,  the  ultimate  standard  of 
faith,  must  be  none  other  than  the  Sacred  Scrip- 
tures." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  said  Contarini ;  "  Scripture  is 
the  arsenal  of  the  Church." 

"  And  the  Church  is  the  guardian  of  the  arse- 
nal," added  Cardmal  Pole. 

"  But  supposing,"  resumed  Cai-nesecchi,  "  that 
this  council  and  the  Bible  diifer  ?" 

"The  very  possibility  involves  the  whole 
question  of  the  authority  of  councils,"  Cardinal 
Pole  replied. 

"Reginal  Pole,"  said  Carnesecchi,  solemnly, 
"  this  is  no  question  of  dialectics ;  you  believe 
firmly  that  the  Word  of  God  is  above  all  tradi- 
tions of  men  ;  and  you  would  venture  the  salva- 
tion of  your  soul  on  the  grace  and  merits  of  your 
Saviour  alone,  Now  suppose,  for  one  instant, 
that  of  the  six  or  seven  hundred  priests  collected 
at  this  council,  the  majority  sliould  decide  in 
favor  of  the  equal  authority  of  tradition,  and 
against  justification  by  faith,  (and  you  well  know 
that  the  party  in  the  Church  which  would  decide 
is  large,)  which  would  you  then  abandon — the 
decision  of  the  council,  or  the  conviction  of  your 
own  soul?" 

"  ]May  I  die  before  such  a  thing  comes  to  pass !" 
exclaimed  Contarini. 

"Convictions    are    not    to    be    given   up   at 
pleasure,"  said  Pole,  uneasily ;  "  but,"  he  added. 


KEFOEMATOES  IN  THE  CHUECH.      147 

"  the  thing  can  not  be ;  the  voice  of  the  Church  is 
the  voice  of  God." 

"  Allow  me  to  pursue  my  supposition  one  step 
further,"  continued  Carnesecchi :  "  suppose  the 
voice  of  the  Church  were  thus  to  contradict  the 
voice  of  your  own  soul,  and  the  Church  (as  you 
well  know  she  would)  were  to  proceed  to  chastise 
and  torture  those  who  could  not  sacrifice  their 
conviction  at  will  to  her  decision — would  you  be 
among  the  persecutors  or  the  persecuted?  Would 
you  light  the  torch,  or  be  bound  to  the  stake?" 

"  The  Church  is  the  handmaid  of  the  Highest," 
said  Pole,  "but  I  never  could  persecute  for 
conscience  sake:  it  would  go  against  all  my 
feelings ;  and,  besides,  it  does  not  answer." 

"And  yet,"  pursued  Carnesecchi,  in  a  low, 
calm  tone,  "  that  day  may  come.  On  one  side  or 
the  other  we  must  stand,  and  then,  unless  Christ 
is  to  us  greater  than  the  Church,  dearer  than  all 
our  most  sacred  traditions  and  most  cherished 
ideals,  I  can  tell  you  what  we,  Avhat  you.  Car- 
dinal Pole,  just  and  tender-hearted  as  you  are, 
would  do.  You  would  never  indeed  cast  a  stone 
at  the  martyrs,  but  you  would  hold  the  garments 
of  those  who  slew  them." 

There  was  a  pause.  Carnesecchi  had  spoken 
with  such  solenm  earnestness,  that  none  of  them 
could  shake  off  the  impression. 

At  length  Vittoria  Colonna  arose  and  said, 
"  The  Church  is  the  mother  of  the  martyrs,  not 
the  sheddcr  of  their  blood;  the  spouse  of  the 


148  THE  EEFOEMATION   IN   ITALY. 

Ci'ucified:  she  suffers,  but  can  she  persecute? 
Think  of  the  millions  of  lowly,  and  holy,  and 
self-devoted  men  who  have  been  fed  at  her  bosom : 
and  shall  she  be  abandoned  of  the  Highest  ?" 

"  Signora,"  said  Carnesecchi,  as  he  took  leave, 
"  pardon  the  roughness  of  a  plain  citizen ;  but, 
believe  me,  it  is  not  the  Church  that  nourishes 
the  faithful,  but  the  Saviour.  She  is  not  the  way 
to  Hirn,  but,  through  faith  in  Him,  we  are  truly 
united  to  her.  He  is  the  door  of  the  fold,  as  well 
as  the  Shepherd  of  the  sheep.  Where  He  is,  the 
Church  is;  and  if  our  souls  are  united  to  Him, 
neither  Pope,  nor  council,  nor  stake,  can  excom- 
municate us."     With  these  words,  he  left. 

"  Carnesecchi  goes  rather  far !"  said  Cardinal 
Pole. 

"But  there  is  truth  in  his  words,"  remarked 
Contarini,  thoughtfully. 

"  Ah !"  sighed  Vittoria  Colonna,  "  for  the  rest 
beyond  the  storms,  with  the  Friend  of  the  heavy- 
laden  and  the  weai-y !" 


V. 

THE  PRISON. 

Some  years  had  passed — not  many,  but  eventful. 
The  soft  cool  of  the  summer's  evening  fell  again 
upon  Ferrara. 

The  citizens  poured  out  of  their  houses  in  their 
gay  dresses  ;  the  street  of  the  Ducal  Palace  was 
thronged  with  eager  multitudes  keeping  holiday. 
But  in  the  palace  much  was  changed.  No  groups 
of  earnest  men  issued  from  it ;  the  doors  were 
closely  guarded,  and  it  Avas  long  since  the  glad 
tidbiofs  had  echoed  from  its  walls.  Preachers 
and  hearers  were  scattered  far  and  v/ide ; — some 
had  been  exiled — some  had  suffered — some  had 
denied.  The  Duchess  remained  faithful,  but  she 
was  left  almost  alone. 

As  the  evening  grew  dimmer,  a  side  door 
opened  softly,  and  from  it  came  a  lady,  tightly 
muffled  in  a  black  dress  and  hood.  She  moved 
quickly  along,  choosing  the  quietest  streets,  until 
she  stopped  at  the  gate  of  a  high,  gloomy  build- 
ing, Avith  narrow  slits  of  Avindows  and  massive 
walls.  It  v/as  the  prison  of  Ferrara.  She  spoke 
afcAV  Avords  to  the  sentinel,  and  he  let  her  pass  in. 


150  TUE    REFOililATION    IN   ITALY. 

Faventino  Fannio,  the  evangelist  of  the 
Romagna,  sat  on  a  pallet  in  his  cell.  His  voice 
was  gentler,  his  eye  calmer,  than  ever ;  hut  the 
sadness  had  passed  from  his  face — hollow  and 
sallow  as  two  years'  imprisonment  had  made  it, 
it  was  full  of  blessed  peace. 

By  his  side,  against  a  damp  wall,  leaned  a  man 
in  military  costume;  for  people  were  allowed 
free  access  to  Fannio's  cell,  and,  like  St.  Paul,  for 
two  whole  years  he  preached  Jesus  Christ,  and 
"  taught  those  things  which  concern  the  kingdom 
of  God,  no  man  forbidding  him."  And  many  be- 
lieved. 

That  soldier  was  a  changed  man  since  the 
summer's  evening  many  years  before,  when  he 
had  listened  to  the  Divine  message  from  Fannio's 
lips.  The  great  change  which  transforms  old, 
hardened,  worldly  men  into  lowly  and  simple- 
hearted  children  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  had 
come  over  him.  They  had  been  talking  very 
earnestly.  The  martyr  had  been  counselling  the 
convert  to  fly  from  the  persecution. 

"  Fly  from  my  post,  father !  I  can  not — I  dare 
not !"  was  the  vehement  reply ;  "  it  would  be  to 
deny  my  Lord  !" 

"  My  son,"  said  the  old  man,  in  a  trembling 
voice,  rising  and  laying  his  hand  on  the  soldier's 
arm,  "  Peter  would  have  died  with  his  Master ; 
when  others  fled,  he  followed ;  and  yet,  in  the 
very  presence  of  his  Lord,  his  courage  failed,  and 
he  denied.     Believe  me,  death  is  terrible,  when 


THE   PRISON.  151 

it  does  not  steal  over  us  in  sIoav  decay,  or  rush 
on  us  in  the  excitement  of  the  fight,  but  is  offered 
to  our  deliberate  choice.  It  was  offei-ed  me  so 
once" — and  the  old  man  hid  his  face  in  his 
hands — "  the  cross  was  offered  me,  and  I  put  it 
aside,  and  denied  my  Redeemer.  He  has  for- 
given it  now,  I  trust,  since  He  deigns  to  let  me — 
me,  traitor  that  I  am ! — suffer  for  His  sake ;  but, 
oh,  the  agony  and  shame  of  that  remembrance ! 
It  is  not  the  strength  of  youth  that  will  serve  us 
in  that  day,  young  man.  Oh,  do  not  dare  to 
court  the  trial !" 

"  Pray  for  me,  father,  that  my  faith  fail  not." 

They  were  about  to  kneel,  when  the  lady  in 
the  muffled  cloak  was  ushered  in,  and  the  door 
was  barred  again  on  the  outside. 

"Signoi-a  Morata!"  said  the  old  man;  "this 
is  kind !" 

"  The  Duchess  made  these  with  her  own 
hands,"  Olympia  said,  as  she  opened  her  basket, 
and  gave  him  some  warm  garments. 

"  The  blessing  of  Him  for  whose  sake  ye  both 
labor  rest  on  her  and  you!"  he  said;  "your 
visits  and  your  words  are  better  to  me  than 
food  or  clothing,  for  they  refresh  and  warm  my 
heart." 

"  It  is  the  last  time !"  she  said,  in  a  faltering 
voice.  "  They  have  banished  me  at  last.  The 
Duchess  will  be  left  alone." 

"Like  the  Saviour!"  exclaimed  Fanuio,  Avith 
a  sad  smile.     "  They  who  come  out  of  the  great 


152  THE    EEFOEMATIOiSr   IN    ITALY. 

tribulation  with  tlie  white  rohes,  will  come  from 
the  palace  as  well  as  the  prison." 

They  stayed  some  while  in  earnest  conversa- 
tion, and  ere  she  left,  the  martyr,  the  soldier,  and 
Olympia,  knelt  and  prayed  together  fervently  for 
all  who  suffered  for  the  Crucified  throu2rhout  the 
world,  in  convent,  palace,  or  prison ;  that  the 
tempted  might  be  faithful,  the  fallen  raised,  the 
faithful  sufi'erers  strengthened.  As  she  left,  he 
took  her  hand,  and  said,  "A  blessing  will  go  with 
you  every whei'e,  signora.  '  I  Avas  sick,  and  in 
prison,  and  ye  visited  me.'  You  Avill  hear  those 
words  one  day  from  other  lips  than  mine,  and 
these  will  follow  them — '  Enter  thou  into  the  joy 
of  thy  Lord.' " 

Not  many  days  after,  they  strangled  him  in  the 
prison,  and  committed  his  body  to  the  flames. 
He  was  the  first  martyr  for  the  recovered  truth 
in  Italy. 

At  tlie  prison  door  Olympia  met  her  maid 
Lucia,  once  the  little  fruitseller,  Avho  was  to  ac- 
company her  mistress,  now  become  the  wife  of 
Dr.  Gunthler,  into  Germany.  She  was  an  or- 
phan now.  And  as  they  turned  away,  an  old 
w^oman  accosted  them,  and  placed  something  in 
Lucia's  hand.    It  was  old  Berta,  the  relic-vender. 

"  Take  this,  my  child,"  she  said,  "  with  the 
blessing  of  an  old  woman:  you  were  very  good 
to  me  in  my  long  sickness,  and  I  often  think  of 
the  words  you  spoke  to  me  then.  It  is  the 
choicest  relic  in  my  stock ;  and  although  I  know 


THE   PRISON.  153 

you  do  not  much  value  such  things,  the  toe-nail 
of  St.  Christopher  has  saved  many  travelers' 
lives,  they  say,  before  now;  and  it  is  no  harm,  at 
any  rate,  to  be  armed  on  both  sides." 

"  I  will  treasure  your  blessing,  dear  Berta,  but 
keep  your  relics." 

But  the  old  woman  had  slipped  round  a  corner, 
and  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Lucia  opened  the 
parcel,  and  found  there,  besides  the  relics,  two 
gold  pieces,  carefully  folded,  the  savings  of  old 
Berta's  hard  and  frugal  life. 


VI. 

THE  PARTING. 

The  court  of  a  princely  villa:  colonnades  of 
marble,  avenues  of  cypress,  dim  arches,  and  deep 
shadows  crossing  each  other  on  the  marble  pave- 
ment. Above,  the  "  eternal  pearl"  floating  in  an 
azure  sea;  below,  on  the  steps  leading  to  the 
water's  edge,  two  women  weeping. 

The  youngest  leant  against  a  stone  column  and 
wept  passionately ;  the  other  took  her  hand,  and 
said,  in  tones  of  such  sweet  gentleness  as  sorrow 
alone  can  teach,  although  her  voice  faltered, 
"This  is  only  one  more  of  the  dark  days,  Olym- 
pia !  one  more — that  is,  one  less  to  come." 

"  But  I  had  such  diflerent  hopes — everything 
promised  so  gloriously.  Italy  free,  the  Church 
purified,  science,  art,  wisdom,  wealth,  power,  all 
glorified  as  they  had  never  been  before,  casting 
their  crowns  at  the  Deliverer's  feet." 

"  My  child,  the  day  will  surely  come  yet.  Let 
your  hopes  but  build  a  little  higher.  '  The  spai*. 
row  hath  found  her  an  house,  and  the  swallow  a 
nest  for  herself,  where  she  may  lay  her  young: 


THE   PAETING.  155 

even  thine  altars,  O  Lord  of  hosts,  my  King,  and 
my  God.'  There  the  sj)oiler  comes  not,  nor  the 
storm." 

"  The  band  of  our  brethren  was  swelling  so 
fast,"  said  Olympia,  "  and  now  we  are  broken 
and  trampled  in  the  dust!" 

"  We  have  borne  witness,  and  that  is  enough," 
the  Duchess  replied  ;  "  what  is  the  Church  now 
but  as  the  tabernacle  of  testimony  in  the  wilder- 
ness ?  A  tent,  you  know,  is  made  to  be  taken 
down.  Ah!  could  we  only  see  inside  the  thresh- 
old of  the  Temple!" 

"  But,  oh,  it  is  bitter,"  said  Olympia,  "  to  see 
our  brightest  and  lioliest  visions  stained,  and 
scorned,  and  trampled  in  the  dust !  " 

"Dust  to  dust!"  replied  the  Duchess,  *' and 
the  immortal  essence  to  the  light ;  the  corrupt- 
ible is  burned,  the  incorruptible  is  but  glorified 
in  the  furnace.  Could  we  see  how  one  by  one 
the  livinac  stones  are  built  iuto  the  radiant  sanct- 
uary,  we  should  not  mourn  so  much  that  our 
poor  ediiices  crumble  together  when  they  are 
taken.  One  less  among  the  wanderers  in  the 
desert,  one  move  among  the  blessed  family  in  the 
home.  "VVe  are  not  scattered,  dear  Olympia,  we 
are  only  gathering  home." 

"But  my  country,  my  paradise,  our  Italy!" 
exclaimed  Olympia  ;  "  to  leave  her  for  ever,  and 
to  have  her  bound  and  bleeding  in  the  hand  of 
the  oppressor !  " 


156  THE    EEFOKMATION    IN    ITALY. 

"  The  sun  rises  again,  Olympia,  and  the  Lord 
reigus." 

"  It  is  not  for  me  to  murmur,"  Olympia  said, 
passionately,  "but  for  you,  my  princess,  my 
mother,  to  leave  you,  and  so  alone !  " — and  she 
fell  on  her  knees  and  clasped  the  Duchess's  hand's 
to  her  lips  and  breast. 

Renee  raised  her,  and  gently  laying  her  head 
on  her  shoulder,  wept  in  silence  without  restraint. 

"  You  have  been  as  a  sister  and  a  child  to  me, 
Olympia,  God  knows,  and  now  I  have  none  be- 
side." 

For  many  months  she  had  not  been  allowed  to 
see  her  children. 

A  soft  splashing  of  oars  bi'oke  the  silence,  and 
the  Duchess  whispered,  "Not  alone,  Olympia, 
not  orphaned.  The  Saviour  may  yet  have  some 
wounds  for  me  to  bind  up,  and  He  will  not  leave 
me  comfortless,  nor  you." 

She  had  just  time  to  press  a  little  Testament 
into  Olympia's  hand,  when  a  boat  glided  to  the 
steps. 

A  foreigner  sprang  on  shore — a  German  phy- 
sician ;  and  as  the  Duchess  laid  Olympia's  hand 
in  that  of  her  husband,  she  said,  "You  will  not 
let  my  southern  flower  die  in  the  cold  north !  " 

"  Love  is  of  no  climate,  signova,"  he  said  ;  "  if 
our  suns  are  cold,  our  hearts  are  warm.  I  take 
her  as  the  dearest  gift  my  God  can  give  me, 
to  love  and  cherish  for  her  own  sake  and  for 
His." 


THE    PARTING.  157 

Olyrapia  looked  trustfully  at  liira  through  her 
tears.  They  stepped  into  the  boat,  the  rowers 
took  their  seats,  and  in  a  few  moments  they  were 
out  of  sight. 

Olyrapia  left  her  country  for  ever.  The 
Duchess  returned  with  slow  steps  to  her  desolate 
palace. 


14 


VII. 
THE  MARTYR. 

Anotheu  prison  and  another  martyr.  Ludovico 
Paschali,  the  missionary  of  the  Waldenses,  sat  at 
a  table  in  his  damp  cell. 

His  head  was  bare ;  his  limbs  Avasted  Avith 
huno:er  and  confinement. 

They  had  already  starved  his  friend  Negrino 
to  death.  The  cords  had  been  removed  for  a 
few  minutes  from  his  lacerated  hands  and  arras, 
whilst  his  brother  Bartolomeo  was  with  him. 

He  spent  the  time  in  writing  a  few  words  of 
encouragement  and  consolation  to  his  beloved 
brethren  and  children  among  the  Calabrese 
Ai^ennines.     He  wrote  thus  : — 

"  My  state  is  this :  I  feel  my  joy  increase  every 
day  as  I  approach  nearer  to  the  hour  in  Avhich  I 
shall  be  offered  as  a  sweet-smelling  sacrifice  to 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  my  faithful  Saviour;  yea, 
so  inexpressible  is  my  joy,  that  I  seem  to  myself 
to  be  free  from  captivity,  and  am  prepared  to  die 
for  Christ,  not  only  once,  but  ten  thousand  times 
if  it  were  possible.     Nevertheless,  I  persevere  in 


THE   MARTYE.  159 

♦ 

imploring  the  Divine  assistance  by  prayer,  for  I 
am  convinced  that  man  is  a  miserable  creature 
when  left  to  liimself,  and  not  upheld  and  directed 
by  God." 

The  letter  was  written  as  well  as  the  prisoner's 
stiff  and  torn  hands  would  allow.  Bartolomeo 
was  summoned,  and  the  cords  were  again  tightly 
bound  around  Paschali's  arms. 

The  brother  wept,  but  the  sufferer  smiled. 

"  I  have  been  learning  something  of  what  He 
suffered,"  he  said,  pointing  to  his  lacerated  hands, 
"and  of /loio  ZTe /ofed." 

The  brothers  embraced  and  were  separated, 
but  once  ao:ain  Bartolomeo  saw  Ludovico. 

The  court  of  the  castle  of  St.  Angelo  was  ar- 
ranged and  crowded  as  if  for  a  festival.  Priests 
and  cardinals  were  there,  and  the  dignitaries  of 
the  Holy  Office  (recently  established  in  Italy  on 
the  Spanish  model);  and  the  Pope  himself  was 
there. 

There  was,  as  in  the  days  of  old,  to  be  a  great 
sacrifice  to  the  gods  of  Rome.  The  victim  was 
led  out,  not  crowned  and  garlanded  like  the  sa- 
cred offerings  of  old ;  it  was  an  emaciated  man 
in  a  sordid  dress,  witli  a  paper  mitre  on  his  head, 
in  mockery.  His  limbs  tottered,  so  that  he  could 
scarcely  walk,  and  he  seemed  dazzled  by  the 
daylight.  The  fxce  was  young,  although  so 
haggard,  and  there  was  light  in  the  sunken  eyes. 

They  dragged  him  to  a  platform,  to  exhibit 
him  to  the  derision  of  the  multitude. 


160  THE   EEFOKMATION   IN   ITALY. 

Raising  his  thin  hands  to  heaven,  and  turning 
to  the  Pope  and  cardinals,  he  said,  in  a  calm, 
solemn  tone — 

"I  summon  you  to  apjjear  before  the  throne 
of  the  Lamb,  and  give  an  account  of  your  cruel- 
ties." 

Paschali's  brother  saw  no  more. 

It  is  now  long  since  that  summons  has  been 
answered ;  the  martyr  has  been  dwelling  three 
hundred  years  in  the  joy  of  his  Lord. 


VIII. 

DESOLATION. 

AxD  Paschali's  converts,  the  Waklensian  peasants, 
to  whom  his  words  had  been  the  keys  of  the  king- 
dom of  heaven — what  had  been  their  fate  ? 

Evenincr  had  come  down  on  the  mountains 
around  the  Calabrese  village  of  Santo  Sisto.  The 
woodman  came  Avhistling  home  from  the  neigh- 
boring forest ;  his  little  children  caught  sight  of 
him,  and  left  their  play,  and  ran  to  cling,  laughing, 
about  his  knees.  His  wife  met  him  at  the  door 
wuth  the  baby  in  her  arms.  Over  the  supper  they 
chatted  merrily  of  the  day's  work  and  the 
morrow's  schemes. 

The  shepherd  boys  and  girls  came  home  from 
the  hills,  the  flocks  were  safely  penned,  and  before 
the  little  ones  were  laid  to  sleep,  the  whole  family 
listened  to  the  Word  of  God,  and  knelt  together 
to  pour  out  their  simple  wants  and  praises.  And 
in  their  prayers  the  good  teacher  from  the  North 
Avas  not  forgotten — they  had  not  heard  of  his 
death.  Then  all  voices  joined  in  the  hymn,  for 
in  Santo  Sisto  there  were  many  happy  Christian 
homes. 

But  it  was  for  the  last  time. 
14* 


162  THE   EEFOEMATION   IN   ITALY. 

Two  monks  came  into  the  village  that  night, 
emissaries  of  the  Inquisition ;  they  exhausted  all 
their  arts  of  persuasion  in  enticing  the  Walden- 
sian  peasants  to  attend  the  mass — but  in  vain. 
They  had  not  much  logic,  but  they  had  that 
single-hearted  loyalty  which  is  so  much  surer  and 
stronger.  To  them  the  mass  was  idolatry.  It 
was  a  question  of  personal  fidelity  to  an  adored 
Master,  who  for  their  sakes  had  shrunk  from  no 
extremity  of  suffering. 

They  did  not  shrink  from  suffering  for  His  sake. 
Before  the  next  evening  the  whole  population  fled 
in  a  body  to  the  forest.  They  left  their  old  men 
and  little  ones  behind.  They  thought  the  in- 
quisitors would  ha.\e  some  pity ;  but  they  were 
mistaken. 

The  inquisitors  passed  on  to  La  Guardia,  the 
other  large  village  of  the  Vaudois  colony,  situated 
on  the  sea-shore.  They  told  the  inhabitants  that 
their  brethren  of  Santo  Sisto  had  yielded.  The 
temptation  and  the  terror,  with  this  example, 
were  too  strong,  and  the  people  of  La  Guardia 
attended  the  mass  in  the  Roman  Catholic  church. 
But  it  was  in  vain.  The  inquisitors  Avould  not 
give  up  their  victims,  and  God  did  not  suffer  His 
own  to  lose  the  crown. 

Troops  were  sent  after  the  fugitives  of  Santo 
Sisto.  They  rushed  into  the  forest,  crying — 
"  Amazzi,  amazzi  /"  ("  Kill,  kill !")  The  peasants 
made  a  brave  resistance,  but  they  were  driven  to 
a    neighboring    mountain.      There    they    made 


DESOLATION.  163 

another  stand,  and  entreated  the  captain  of  the 
troops  to  let  them  escape  from  the  country.  They 
asked  only  for  their  lives.  The  request  was 
denied.  Roused  to  desperation,  the  little  band 
made  an  lieroic  onset,  and  repulsed  and  routed 
the  king's  troops.  But  the  force  against  which 
they  contended  was  overwhelming.  New  troops 
were  sent,  the  Viceroy  himself  accompanying 
them,  to  see  that  the  slaughter  v/as  complete. 
The  fugitives  were  driven  to  the  heights  of  the 
mountains.  The  greater  number  were  slain,  and 
the  rest  perished  with  cold  and  hunger.  The 
village  of  Santo  Sisto  was  burnt  to  the  ground, 
and  the  feeble  remnant  of  its  population  murdered. 
Pardon  was  offered  to  all  the  outlaws  who  would 
join  in  hunting  down  the  heretics,  and  thus  they 
were  tracked  to  their  hiding-places  among  the 
recesses  of  tlie  mountains,  and  murdered  one  by 
one. 

Yet  this  was  not  the  worst.  When  the  inhab- 
itants of  La  Guardia  found  how  they  had  been 
deceived,  they  were  ahnost  maddened  Avith  indig- 
nation. They  would  have  joined  their  brethren 
in  the  forest,  but  it  was  too  late.  The  inquisitors 
courteously  invited  them  to  a  parley.  Of  those 
who  came,  seventy  were  seized  and  put  to  the 
torture. 

Sixty  women  also  were  tortured  and  thrown 
into  prison,  with  none  to  bind  up  tlieir  wounds- 
Most  of  them  died  there. 

The  prisons  were  filled,  and  then  the  prisoners 


164  THE   REFORMATION   IN   ITALY. 

led  out  one  by  one  and  ]n\t  to  death.  "  I  can 
compare  it,"  Av^rites  a  Catholic  eye-witness,  "  to 
nothing  but  the  slaughter  of  so  many  sheep ;  and 
yet,"  he  adds,  "  I  do  not  hear  that  they  behave 
ill.  They  are  a  simple,  unlettered  people,  entirely 
occupied  with  spade  and  plough,  and,  I  am  told, 
show  themselves  sufficiently  religious  in  the  hour 
of  death." 

Much  followed  that  is  too  horrible  for  us  to 
hear;  but  yet  it  was  not  too  horrible  for  our 
brethren  to  endure.  Tliey  were  sawn  asunder, 
thrown  from  high  cliffs,  burnt,  racked  to  death  ! 
"  It  was  strange,"  says  a  Catholic  historian,  "  to 
see  their  obstinacy.  For  whilst  the  son  saw  the 
father  put  to  death,  and  lather  the  son,  they  not 
only  exhibited  no  symptoms  of  griet!,  bid  said 
joyfully^  that  they  ivould  be  angels  of  God. 

The  whole  of  this  little  heroic  band  was  slain, 
except  a  few  who  were  sold  for  slaves. 

The  flourishing  colony  of  four  thousand  per- 
ished, leaving  not  one  trace  behind.  Their  indus- 
trious labors,  their  conflicts,  and  their  suflbrings, 
are  over  now,  but  the  long  harvest  of  joy  is  only 
just  begun. 


And  what  had  become,  during  these  years,  of 
the  friends  of  Viterbo,  the  Reformers  within  the 
Churcli?  They  were  scattered  far  and  wide  in 
place,  and  fiij-ther  still  in  thought. 


DESOLATION.  165 

Vittoria  Colonna  had  passed,  we  trust,  as  she 
longed,  to  the  rest  beyond  the  storms,  and  the 
light  beyond  tlie  clouds,  with  the  Friend  of  the 
weary  and  heavy  laden. 

The  gentle  Christian  heart  of  Cardinal  Conta- 
rini  had  been  sorely  tried.  In  spite  of  all  his 
patient  cfibrts  at  effecting  a  reconciliation 
between  the  schismatics  and  the  Church  of 
Rome,  the  breach  had  v.idened.  The  Popes  had 
never  honestly  furthered  his  endeavors;  the 
conference  for  which  he  had  toiled  so  persever- 
ingly  had  resulted  in  a  more  marked  separation ; 
and,  happily  for  him,  he  died  before  that  General 
Council,  which  had  been  the  goal  of  all  his  labors, 
contradicted  all  the  truths  he  most  prized,  estab- 
lished and  enibodied  all  the  errors  he  souc^ht  to 
reform,  and  defeated  all  his  most  cherished  plans. 
We  must  hope  that  his  gentle  and  affectionate 
soul  passed  into  the  inheritance  purchased  by 
Him  on  whose  death  and  righteousness  alone  he 
relied,  and  received  the  blessing  of  tlie  peace- 
makers. 

With  Pole  and  Carnesecchi  it  was  otherwise. 
They  lived  till  the  day  of  decision.  The  narrow 
line  that  separated  them  proved  the  line  of  demar- 
cation. The  Council  of  Trent  decided  that  tradi- 
tion was  of  equal  authority  witli  Scripture  ;  it 
condemned  those  who  believed  in  justification  by 
faith,  exalted  to  higher  honors  than  ever  the 
"  holy  and  venerable"  images,  and  sealed  all  its 
decisions  with  the  most  terrific  anathemas. 


166  THE   REFORMATION   IN   ITALY. 

Pietro  Carnesecchi  preferred  the  voice  of  Christ 
to  that  of  the  Church — Pole  placed  the  Church 
between  him  and  the  Saviour.  The  one  was  sent 
with  every  honor  as  legate  to  England — the  other 
was  thrown  into  a  prison  at  Rome. 


IX. 

THE  STRAIGHT  PATH  THE  SAFE  PATH. 

The  little  glimpse  of  avtifical  light  which  Henry 
VIII.  had  made  had  faded  away  in  England ;  but 
Mary,  in  putting  it  out,  had  gone  so  roughly  to 
work,  that  she  had  torn  down  the  old  walls,  and 
let  the  full  stream  of  daylight  in. 

The  city  of  London  was  echoing  with  the 
news  of  the  death  of  Cranmer.  The  Papal  Le- 
gate sat  writing  at  a  table  in  the  palace  of  his 
cousin  the  Queen.  Not  long  before,  he  had,  by 
a  solemn  absolution,  readmitted  the  nation  within 
the  pale  of  the  Church.  Every  day  brought  ti- 
dings of  some  conversion  to  the  royal  and  Papal 
cause— the  capture  of  some  noted  Lutheran,  or 
the  death  of  some  obstinate  heretic.  Yet  Car- 
dinal Pole  had  nothing  of  the  air  of  a  victor. 
His  brow  was  furrowed,  his  eye  was  troubled, 
and  his  manner  was  irritable  and  uneasy. 

A  bishop  entered  the  room.  His  bearing  w'as 
authoritative  and  triumphant ;  he  had  no  scruples 
and  no  fears.    The  name  of  Bonner  has.  become 


168  THE  STRAIGHT  PATH  THE  SAFE  PATH. 

a  byword  in  every  home  in  England — and  with 
such  men  was  the  evangelical,  and  liberal,  and 
gentle  Pole  now  doomed  to  associate. 

"  I  come,"  he  said,  "  in  the  name  of  her  Maj- 
esty and  the  estates  of  the  realm,  to  offer  your 
Eminence  the  mitre  of  tlie  apostate  Cranmer." 

"I  Avant  no  further  dignities,"  replied  Pole, 
irritably  ;  "  I  have  told  you  already,  I  only  v;ish 
to  be  allowed  to  serve  my  God  in  quiet.  I  am 
an  old  man ;  I  can  not  burden  my  few  remaining 
years  with  further  cares — why  will  you  trouble 
me  ?" 

"  Does  your  Eminence  scruple  to  wear  the 
robes  Avhicli  have  been  i)olIuted  by  a  heretic  ?" 
retorted  Bonner,  fixing  his  little  keen  eyes  on 
him ;  "  they  say  the  disease  is  infectious." 

The  Cardinal  rose  and  paced  restlessly  about 
the  room.  He  knew  very  Avell  that  his  own  rep- 
utation was  not  intact ;  he  had  narrowly  escaped 
the  Inquisition  in  Italy,  nnd  liis  very  sense  of  the 
justice  of  the  suspicion  drove  him  to  deed  after 
deed  of  persecution  to  disarm  it. 

"  But  if  I  accept  my  royal  cousin's  gracious 
proffer,"  he  said,  "  how  can  I  serve  the  Church? 
— I  am  feeble  and  old :  choose  some  younger  and 


more  vigorous  man." 


"  A  sound  heart  is  better  than  a  strong  arm," 
said  Bonner,  pursuing  his  advantage ;  "  your 
Eminence  will  not  refuse  your  last  hours  to  the 
cause  so  dear  to  your  heart.  Besides,  our  officers 
are  faithful — the  prisons  are  scarcely  emptied  for 


THE    KEFOKMATION    IN    ITALY.  169 

the  stake,  before  the  zeal  of  our  servants  fills 
them  Avith  fresh  captives.     Her  Majesty  and  all 
the  faithful  Avill  unite  in  the  support  and  counsel' 
of  your  Eminence." 

Cardinal  Pole  sat  down  again,  leaned  on  the 
table,  and  clasped  his  hands  before  his  eyes. 

"It  will  not  answer — it  Avill  never  answer!" 
he  exclaimed ;  "  I  will  remonstrate  to  the  last. 
Men's  convictions,  right  or  wrong,  are  not  to  be 
burnt  out  of  them ;  persecution  only  burns  them 
in.  Try  gentle  means — reason,  tempt,  persuade, 
unfold  before  them  the  glory  of  the  Church  of 
Ages — win  their  hearts  back  to  the  Mother  of 
the  saints." 

"  But  if  persuasion  fails  ?"  asked  Bonner. 

"  By  heaven!  can  you  not  leave  the  criminal  to 
the  Judge?     Is  not  one  hell  enough?" 

"  But  for  the  sake  of  the  sound  members,  the 
the  diseased  must  be  amputated,"  Bonner  re- 
joined ;  "  when  the  Church  can  not  reclaim  the 
w.'inderers,  she  must  teach  the  fiithful  by  their 
jjunishment.  In  despei'ate  cases  the  strongest 
remedies  are  the  most  merciful." 

"  What  do  you  teach  by  burning  ?"  demanded 
Pole.  "One  stake  teaches  more  heresy  than  a 
thausand  pulpits." 

"  The  chastisement  seems  to  have  answered 
cifectually  in  Italy,"  replied  Bonner,  dryly;  "we 
hear  no  more  of  the  Reformation  there." 

"  I  tell  you  for  the  hundredth  time,"  rejoined 
the  Cardinal,  "that  the  cases  are  radically  dif- 
15 


170  THE  STRAIGHT  PATH  THE  SAFE  PATH. 

ferent.  In  England  you  have  to  contend,  not 
■with  tlie  relics  of  exhausted  races,  or  the  worn- 
out  fragments  of  factious  republics,  but  with  a 
brave,  obstinate,  and  united  nation.  They  may 
bear  the  yoke  long  in  qiiietness — it  is  their  way ; 
but  depend  on  it,  when  the  climax  is  reached, 
and  the  barrier  once  burst,  the  deluge  will  be 
terrific  let  my  royal  cousin  look  well  to  it  that 
it  does  not  sweep  away  her  throne !" 

"  Well !"  said  Bonner,  shrugging  his  shoul- 
ders, "  I  am  no  diplomatist.  I  am  simply  an 
humble  son  of  the  holy  Roman  Catholic  and 
Apostolic  Church.  She  has  spoken — I  have  only 
to  obey." 

The  Cardinal  was  silenced.  "The  Church," 
he  said,  "  commands  my  feebleness  as  well  as  ray 
strength ;  if  she  needs  me  for  this  weary  dignity, 
I  accept  it." 

He  would  not  cast  a  stone  at  tlie  martyrs,  but 
he  held  the  garments  of  those  who  slew  them. 

Pietro  Carnesecchi  stood  at  the  window  of  his 
cell,  looking  out  on  the  Tiber.  His  face  was  full 
of  a  grave  and  exalted  joy.  He  turned  from  the 
window  to  a  friend  who  had  been  permitted  to 
visit  him,  and,  raising  his  fettered  hands,  he  said  : 

"  I  have  leai'nt  many  things  in  this  dungeon. 
Glimpses  of  heaven  have  come  to  me  through 
those  narrow  windows,  and  sounds  of  everlasting 
truth  and  joy  in  the  rushing  of  that  river,  such 
as  I  never  saw  or  heard  till  now.     I  have  learnt 


THE   STKAIGIIT  PATH   THE   SAFE   PATH.   171 

that  there  is  no  freedom  like  that  of  the  heart 
wliich  has  given  up  all  for  Christ — no  wisdom 
like  that  learnt  at  His  feet — no  poetry  like  the 
calm  foreseeing  of  the  glory  that  shall  be." 

The  joyful  assurance  was  with  him  to  the  last. 

"  He  went  to  death,"  they  say,  "  as  to  a  tri- 
umph;" and  the  angels  met  him  with  the  crown. 

So  far  apart  did  two  roads  lead  which  seemed 
at  first  so  nearly  parallel.  So  much  more  joyful 
is  it,  even  here,  to  endure  all,  than  to  compro- 
mise in  aught. 


X. 

THE  DISPERSION. 

The  years  passed  on.  Olympia  Morata  was 
dead.  She  had  lived  some  time  at  Schweinfurt, 
her  hiTsband's  birthplace,  as  a  quiet  German 
matron.  Her  talents,  her  engaging  character, 
and  her  misfortunes,  had  soon  gathered  a  circle 
of  friends  around  her.  But  at  the  siege  of  the 
place  by  those  German  princes  who  were  enemies 
of  the  Protestant  Albert  of  Bradenburg,  she  had 
suffered  much  from  unwholesome  food  and  lodg- 
ing. The  city  was  taken,  and  Olympia  fled  with 
her  husband. 

"If  you  had  seen  me,"  she  wrote  to  Celio 
Secundo  Curio,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of 
the  Protestant  refugees,  and  then  professor  at 
Basle,  "with  my  feet  bare  and  bleeding — my 
hair  dishevelled — my  borrowed  clothes  all  torn 
— you  would  have  pronounced  me  to  be  the 
Queen  of  Beggars." 

They  escaped,  however,  to  Heidelberg.  Here 
it  seemed  Olympia  would  at  length  find  a  quiet 
resting-place,  beneath  the  walls  of  the  noble  old 


THE    DISPEKSION.  173 

castle,  not  then  ruined  by  religious  wars.  She 
found  rest  there,  though  not  in  the  Avay  her 
friends  had  hoped.  Her  constitution  was  broken 
by  hardship  and  trial,  and  the  rugged  northern 
climate.  Her  heart  yearned  over  her  Italy,  but 
God  called  the  exile  to  a  better  home.  She  sank 
into  a  rapid  consumption,  and  died  in  her  twenty- 
ninth  year,  full  of  quiet  peace  and  hope. 

The  despotic  and  licentious  Ercole  of  Ferrara 
had  also  passed  to  his  account,  with  the  highest 
recommendations  from  Pope  Paul  IV.,  as  a 
"Defender  of  the  Faith." 

The  good  Duchess,  after  her  husband's  death, 
had  retired  to  Montargis,  a  city  sixty  miles  to 
the  south  of  Paris. 

True  to  her  old  principles,  wherever  she  went, 
the  exiled  and  persecuted  Protestants  found  a 
home  and  a  friend,  and  this  at  no  small  risk  to 
herself  The  persecutors  of  the  age  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew's Massacre  did  not  spare  even  princely 
heretics.  The  Guises  did  all  they  could  to  oppose 
her.  The  Duke  even  sent  an  army  against  Mon- 
targis in  15G0,  under  Jean  de  Souches  Malicornes. 

The  troops  forced  their  waj'  into  the  town, 
and  succeeded  in  putting  many  Protestant  refu- 
gees to  death,  and  setting  lire  to  their  houses. 
The  Duchess,  and  all  v.'ho  could  escape,  took 
refuge  in  the  castle.  De  Souches  threatened  to 
batter  it  dov/n,  and  pointed  his  cannon  against 
the  walls. 

Renee  did  not  shrink  ;  her  s^entle  and  generous 
15- 


174       THE  EEFOKMATION  IN  ITALY. 

heart  had  stood  many  more  trying  assaults  than 
this,  and  she  sent  this  heroic  answer  to  the 
general : — 

"  Consider  well  what  you  do ;  know  that  no 
one  has  the  right  to  command  me  but  the  king 
himself;  and  that  if  you  come  hither,  I  will  be 
the  first  to  mount  the  breach,  when  I  shall  see  if 
you  have  the  audacity  to  kill  the  daughter  of  a 
king,  who  desires  only  to  j^rotect  her  subjects, 
and  whose  death  heaven  and  earth  will  be  bound 
to  avenge  upon  you,  and  upon  all  your  line,  even 
upon  your  children  in  their  cradles." 

The  general  was  perplexed,  and  the  troops 
were  withdrawn. 

One  evening,  not  long  after  this,  the  Duchess 
stood  upon  the  ramparts  of  the  castle,  with  a 
refugee  recently  arrived  from  Italy.  It  was 
Burlamacchi,  one  of  the  nobles  of  Lucca,  and 
formerly  pastor  of  the  Reformed  Church  there. 
He,  with  some  others,  had  attempted  to  effect  a 
revolution  at  Lucca,  and  resist  the  establishment 
of  the  Inquisition.  Both  attempts  had  failed  ; 
the  church  was  scattered,  and  the  pastor  had 
been  compelled  to  flee. 

"Do  you  remember,"  the  Duchess  said,  in  a 
low  voice,  "  many  years  ago,  as  we  stood  on  the 
terrace  of  tlie  palace  at  Ferrara,  with  Calvin  and 
Valdes,  and  Ochino,  and  Paschali,  and  Olympia 
Morata  ?     Things  are  changed  since  then  !  " 

Burlamacchi  leaned  against  the  wall,  and  hid 
his  face.     He  could  not  reply. 


THE   DISPERSION.  1*75 

"  I  remember,"  the  Duchess  contiuued,  "  that 
Paschali  said  then  there  was  scarcely  a  city  or  a 
convent  or  a  village  in  Italy  which  did  not  num- 
ber some  genuine  disciples  of  the  Saviour,  lie 
was  right — for  now  there  is  scarcely  a  city  or  a 
village  which  has  not  sent  its  martyrs." 

"  It  is  true — it  is  true  !  "  exclaimed  Burlamac- 
chi ;  "  at  Venice  they  have  been  sunk  in  the  sea, 
calling  on  the  Lord  Jesus ;  at  Rome,  Bartoccio, 
and  uncounted  numbers  besides,  have  perished 
in  the  flames,  crying,  '  Vittoria  ! '  In  Modena, 
Milan,  Mantua,  Cremona,  Lucca,  Pisa,  Florence, 
Naples,  nobles,  peasants,  priests,  have  gone  to 
the  stake  and  the  scaflbld,  rather  than  renounce 
the  Gospel  of  their  Redeemer.  They  have  suc- 
ceeded," he  added,  bitterly,  "the  enemy  has 
triumphed ;  for  this  time  the  light  is  trampled 
out  of  Italy." 

"  We  have  triumphed,  signor,"  replied  the 
Duchess,  gently,  "though  not,  indeed,  by  the 
way  we  would  have  chosen." 

"  The  martyred  Reformers  do  indeed  live,"  be 
answered;  "but  the  Reformation  is  dead,  and 
Italy,  our  beautiful  Italy,  is  lost !" 

"Have  any  denied?"  asked  the  Duchess. 

"  Some  were  too  self-confident  to  fly,"  he  said ; 
"  and  when  death  looked  them  in  the  face,  they 
shrank  back,  and  did  penance.  Some  fled  to  the 
Alps,  and  then,  looking  back  on  the  paradise 
they  had  left,  their  hearts  tailed — they  returned 
to  apostatize  or  to  die." 


176  THE    REFORMATION   IN   ITALY. 

Neither  spoke  for  some  moments ;  at  last  Renee 
said,  "  The  little  band  that  met  at  Ferrara  are 
broken  and  scattered  now.  Two  are  at  rest ;  but 
Ochino  !  that  is  the  saddest  thought  of  all." 

"What  has  befallen  him?"  asked  Burlamacchi. 

"  He  has  embraced  the  cold  and  deadly  false- 
hood of  Socinus,"  she  replied  ;  "  is  it  not  strange 
that  he  could  leave  all  for  Christ,  and  then,  when 
he  had  lost  all  besides,  abandon  his  Master  too  ?" 

"  Ah !  how  often,"  said  Burlamacchi,  mourn- 
fully, "  it  is  easier  to  sacrifice  than  to  submit!  and 
yet  he  may  be  won  back;  prayer  is  stronger  than 
logic,  and  we  will  pray  for  him  and  for  ourselves. 
Has  your  highness  any  news  of  the  other  exiles  ?" 

"  There  are  churches  at  Geneva  and  Basle," 
was  her  reply ;  "Elizabeth  of  England  has  suffered 
them  to  worship  openly  in  Loudon ;  and  from  the 
rocks  and  glaciers  of  the  Grisons  the  exiles  Avrite 
as  full  of  joy  and  triumph  as  if  from  the  very 
gates  of  Eden.  The  colony  has  become  a  mission 
to  all  the  country  round.  You  see,"  she  continued, 
with  one  of  her  old  bright  smiles,  "  they  have  not 
trampled  out  the  fire — they  have  only  scattered 
it." 

"  It  is  true,"  he  replied,  more  cheerfully,  "  we 
always  grow  better  in  the  shade ;  nothing  can 
ruin  us  but  our  own  lukewarmness  and  divisions. 
But  for  Italy  I  fear  the  worst ;  the  candlesticks 
once  removed  from  the  seven  chiu-ches  of  old 
have  never  since  been  replaced.  The  sun  rises 
again,  indeed,  but  he  rises  on  another  shore." 


QBE   DISPERSION.  lV7 

* 

"Let  not  our  hearts  be  troubled,"  she  said; 
"  the  martyrs  live,  the  Saviour  reigns,  and  the 
truth  must  triumph  at  the  last." 

"Yes,"  rejoined  Burlamacchi,  "this  day  has 
set  in  clouds ;  perhaps  before  another  dawns,  a 
night  of  storms  and  terror  will  have  passed,  such 
as  the  world  has  not  yet  seen." 

"And  we,  my  friend,"  replied  the  Duchess, 
"  shall  have  passed  beyond  all  storms  before  then, 
and  shall,  we  trust,  come  down  with  the  Saviour 
and  the  hosts  of  His  redeemed,  to  bring  to  the 
earth  the  morning  of  the  long  day  of  joy." 

She  lived  lonGf  enousjh  to  see  that  the  Massacre 
of  St.  Bartholomew  could  not  extinguish  Protest- 
antism in  France;  and  three  years  afterwards,  in 
1575,  she  Avas  called  to  be  present  with  the 
martyrs  she  had  succored,  and  the  Lord  she  had 
served. 


THE    DIARY 


BROTHER  BARTHOLOMEW. 


"  They  be  not  all  faithless  that  arc  cither  weak  in  assentint?  to  the 
truth,  or  stiff  in  maintaining  things  any  way  opposite  to  the  truth 
of  Cliristian  doctrine.  But  as  many  as  lioUl  the  foundation  which  is 
precious,  though  they  hold  it  but  wcalvly,  and  as  it  were  by  a  slender 
thread,  although  they  may  frame  many  base  and  unsuitable  things 
upon  it,  things  that  can  not  abide  the  trial  of  the  fire  ;  yet  shall  they 
pass  the  fiery  trial  and  be  saved,  which,  indeed,  have  builded  them- 
selves upon  the  rock,  which  is  the  foundation  of  the  Church 

But  liow  many  millions  of  them  are  known  so  to  have  ended  their 
mortal  lives,  that  the  drawing  of  their  breath  liath  ceased  with  the 
uttering  of  this  faith,  '  Christ  my  Saviour,  my  llcdeemer  Jesus  !' 
And  shall  we  say  that  such  did  not  hold  the  foundation  of  the  Chris- 
tian faith?" — A  learned  Discourse  by  Mr.  Richard  Hooker. 


INTRODUCTORY  NOTE. 

The  supposed  date  of  this  Diaiy  must  account 
for  its  quaintness. 

The  truths  stated  in  it  are,  the  Editor  believes, 
not  more  evangelical  than  are  to  be  met  with  in 
the  letters  of  Bernard  of  Clairvaux ;  and  these 
truths,  and  the  errors  which  grow  up  beside  them, 
not  more  inconsistent  with  each  other  than  many 
of  the  beliefs  which,  in  those  confused  times,  con- 
trived to  find  an  honest  livelihood  in  the  same 
mind.  The  mixture  of  shrewdness  and  childish- 
ness in  the  good  monk  would  be  the  natural  con- 
sequence of  an  experience  so  limited  as  his,  and 
of  the  imion  of  the  ii-ytelligence  of  manhood  \\'ith 
that  habitual  relinquishment  of  all  manly  freedom 
of  thought  and  action  which  his  rule  required. 

Brother  Bartholomew's  practical  piety  must 
have  had  many  parallels  in  days  when  the  Bible 
was  daily  read  in  the  Benedictine  abbeys,  and 
monasteries  were  the  industrial  schools  and  peni- 
tentiaries of  the  nations. 

The  earnestness  of  his  religion  may  serve  to 
show  the  strength  of  that  principle  of  life  which 
1* 


6  INTKODUCTORY   NOTE. 

survived  the  malaria  of  the  monastic  system; 
whilst  its  deformed  and  stunted  growth,  in 
contrast  with  the  quiet  and  steady  progress  of  his 
friend,  may  illustrate  the  poisonous  nature  of  the 
system  which  could  paralyze  and  distort  a  life  so 
real  and  so  divine. 

It  is  happy  to  think,  that,  amongst  the  millions 
Avho  adhered  to  the  ecclesiastical  system  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  there  were  many  who  lived  so  near 
their  Saviour,  as  to  receive  from  His  hands  the 
antidote  to  all  its  poisons ;  but  it  is  far  happier  to 
know,  that  there  were  thousands  who  lived  so 
close  to  Him  as  to  rise  above  its  errors  altogether, 
and  to  be  content  for  His  sake  to  be  rejected  of 
their  generation. 


THE  DIARY 

OF 

BROTHER  BARTHOLOMEW. 

In  the  uanie  of  our  Lord  Christ,  and  all  His 
saints,  and  especially  of  our  Lady  His  mother, 
patroness  of  this  our  Abbey  of  Marienthal,  I, 
Bartholomew,  a  poor  brother  in  the  same  vener- 
able Abbey,  governed  according*  to  the  genuine 
and  original  rule  of  the  holy  Benedict,  have  un- 
dertaken to  write  a  history,  from  day  to  day,  of 
the  things  which  mine  eyes  shall  see  and  mine 
ears  hear. 

The  thought  of  this  chronicle  has  visited  me 
frequently  of  late,  often  intruding  on  ray  hours  of 
holy  meditation,  for  which  reason  I  endeavored 
to  scare  it  away  as  a  presumptuous  suggestion 
from  the  Enemy  ;  but  seeing  that,  in  spite  of  all 
my  conjurations,  and  crossings,  and  repetitions 
of  the  Pater  Noster  and  the  Sacred  Hours,  it 
hath  continued  to  force  itself  upon  me  (being 
even  spoken  to  me  in  visions  by  the  holy  Benedict 
himself),  I  have  concluded  it  to  be  a  good  thought, 


8  "     THE   DIAllY    OF 

well-pleasing  to  the  saints,  and  have  therefore  re- 
solved on  executing  it,  and  leaving  these  my 
humble  memorials  as  a  legacy  to  the  Abbey, 
knowing  that  the  common  incidents  of  to-day 
are  often  as  a  sti'ange  and  pleasant  tale  to  those 
that  come  after  :  since  Avhich  determination,  my 
meditations  have  been  no  more  disturbed — a  fur- 
ther proof  that  the  project  is  not  from  below. 

In  order  to  accomplisli  this  design,  parchment 
being  somewhat  costly,  I  have  procured  from  the 
Prior  the  copy  of  an  old  manuscript,  which  none 
of  us  can  read — not  even  our  learned  brother 
Lupacius,  who  has  studied  at  Paris.  The  labor 
of  effacing  the  former  characters  was  great,  they 
being  carefully  and  thickly  written,  but  I  was 
cheered  in  my  toil  by  the  thought  that  I  was 
destroying  sora6  of  the  works  of  the  E\  il  One, 
the  letters  being  of  a  very  hideous  and  diabolical 
form,  square  and  three-cornered,  and  very  black, 
speckled  moreover  with  a  countless  multitude  of 
dots  which  skipped  around  them  like  wicked 
imps,  making  so  ugly  a  confusion  as  no  Christian 
could  look  at  long  without  danger  of  distraction, 
much  less  have  made.  In  every  page,  therefore, 
however  I  may  till  it,  it  is  a  marvellous  consola- 
tion to  me  to  i-eilect  that  I  am  tilling  so  much 
ground  reclaimed  from  the  infidel. 

I  have  lived  all  my  life  v/ithin  the  walls  of  tlie 
Abbey,  and  of  the  world  beyond  I  know  even  as 
little  as  the  Israelites  did  of  the  Promised  Land 
wlien  they  believed  the  spies.     Of  my  father  and 


I3K0TIIEE   BAETIIOLOMEAV.  9 

mother  I  know  nothing,  nor  do  any  of  the 
brethren.  I  Avas  found  one  winter  morning,  a 
helpless  inflint,  lying  on  the  threshold  of  the  con- 
vent, wrapped  in  a  few  rags,  Avith  a  label  import- 
ing that  my  mother  and  father  were  dead,  and 
entreating  the  holy  brethren,  for  the  love  of  God, 
to  bring  up  the  orphan,  and  teach  him  to  offer 
masses  for  the  souls  of  his  parents. 

At  first,  I  have  heard,  the  monks  Avere  sorely 
puzzled  how  to  handle  or  Avhat  to  do  Avith  me. 
An  especial  convocation  Avas  convened,  in  Avhich 
it  Avas  determined  to  feed  and  cherish  me  as  they 
Avould  any  other  young  and  tender  thing,  and, 
after  being  baptized,  I  Avas  assigned  to  the  guar- 
dians of  the  hospital,  Avith  a  room  for  my  special 
use.  But,  one  after  another,  the  patience  of  the 
holy  men  was  quite  Avearied  out  Avith  my  cease- 
less cries  and  complainings,  until  it  Avas  resolved 
to  commit  me  to  the  keeping  of  a  res])ectable 
peasant  Avoman  iu  our  village,  called  Magdalis 
Schroder.  With  her  I  grcAv  to  a  healthy  and 
merry  boy,  but  the  good  monks  alv/ays  insist  that 
the  suavity  of  my  temper  at  present  is  nothing- 
less  than  a  miracle,  considering  that  so  unmanage- 
able and  ill-natured  a  babe  Avas  never  seen. 

In  my  youth  I  had  occasionally  strong  desires 
to  see  something  of  the  world  beyond  our  valley, 
that  before  my  profession  I  might  knoAV  Avhat  I 
was  renouncing ;  but  the  brotherhood  ahvays 
Avithheld  me,  saying,  that  such  a  Avish  Avas  like 
Eve's  desire  to  be  made  Avise  by  eating  of  the 


10  THE    DIARY    OF 

Ti-ee  of  the  Knowledge  of  Good  and  Evil — that 
in  the  world  nothing  was  to  be  learned  but  evil, 
and  in  the  convent  the  knowledge  of  good.  Their 
will  was  everything  to  me,  and  I  unresistingly 
acquiesced;  but  I  have  often  since  thought  that 
the  evil  lies  nearer  liorae,  and  that  if  I  had  to 
clioose,  I  would  not  lly  for  refuge  to  a  monastery. 
But  what  am  I  saying  ?  The  holy  Benedict  par- 
don me !  All  I  mean  is,  that  if,  as  they  say,  the 
earth  is  the  same  everywhere,  as  the  heart  cer- 
tainly is,  perhaps  the  heavens  are  also  the  same, 
and  as  near.  I  say  this  to  Mother  Magdalis 
sometimes,  when  she  groans  under  her  burdens 
and  cares;  yet,  for  myself,  I  have  no  wish  to 
change.  Here  I  have  lived,  and  here,  if  the 
Lord  and  the  Abbot  will  it  so,  will  I  die. 

Nevertheless,  I  was  not  always  so  content. 

At  one  time,  -when  I  was  young,  my  lieart  felt 
strong,  and  fluttered,  for  freedom,  as  the  Prio)-'s 
birds  flutter  in  the  spring,  or  as  the  young  buds 
throw  off^  their  casings  in  tlie  forest  on  an  April 
morning,  and  tremble  and  open  in  the  sun  and 
the  warm  winds. 

I  used  to  go  often  and  visit  luy  foster-mother. 
She  is  a  widow,  but  she  has  two  children — the  best, 
she  says,  a  poor  widov/  ever  had.  It  is  true,  Karl 
is  a  little  wrong-headed  and  fiery  nov/  and  then, 
but  Nannerl,  certainly  every  one  must  agree  there 
are  not  many  like  her.  It  was  not  because  of  her 
large,  violet-blue  eyes,  and  her  fresh  color,  like 
a  rose — if  a  I'ose  could  change  hue  as  she  does 


NANNERI,  AND  HER  TWO  CHILDREN. 
Tales  and  Sketches. 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  11 

(of  such  things  I  am  no  judge) — she  was  a  strong 
and  healthy  maiden,  and  that  is  enough — but  for 
truth  and  goodness,  and  singleness  of  heart,  I 
never  saw  any  like  her.  She  was  like  a  manu- 
script of  a  psalm  of  thanksgiving,  illuminated  all 
round  with  holy  images  in  fair  colors,  so  joyous 
and  in  harmony.  I  often  thought,  when  I  looked 
at  her,  of  the  blessed  words,  "  If  thine  eye  be 
single,  thy  whole  body  shall  be  full  of  light" — • 
so  full  of  light,  pleasant,  cheering,  fireside  light 
was  she  within  and  without.  I  never  passed  her 
mother's  cottage  any  morning,  how  early  soever 
— and  I  passed  if  often — but  she  was  up  before 
me,  getting  her  brother's  breakfast,  or  doing  her 
mother's  work,  with  her  bright  morning  face, 
and  her  pleasant  words. 

Now  it  came  to  pass,  when  I  went  one  evening 
to  the  cottao'e  with  a  basket  of  broken  meat  from 
the  Abbey,  I  thought  they  all  seemed  haj^pier 
than  usual;  Nannerl's  face  was  brighter  than 
ever,  but  it  seemed  to  be  shining  with  some 
hidden  joy.  At  length,  when  she  left  the  room 
to  put  aside  the  contents  of  the  basket,  Mother 
Magdalis  told  me  there  was  to  be  a  wedding  in 
the  family — young  Hans  Reichardt,  the  Abbey 
carpenter,  had  asked  Nannerl's  hand.  They  had, 
she  said,  liked  one  another  long;  and  before  many 
weeks  they  would  probably  be  coming  to  the 
Abbey  church  together. 

I  could  not  exactly  comprehend  why  Magdalis 
should  make  such  a  festival  of  this ;  I  could  not 


12  THE   DIARY   OF 

tell  why,  but  I  had  never  much  admired  young 
Reichardt,  yet  I  congratulated  them  all  as 
honestly  as  I  could. 

"It  is  a  good  providence,"  said  my  foster- 
mother.  "  I  am  old,  and  the  children  have  no  father, 
and  it  is  a  blessed  thing  for  them  to  have  a  home." 

Nannerl's  face  glowed  with  quiet  pleasure 
when  I  wished  her  joy  of  her  new  prospects.  I 
did  feel  glad  at  their  joy,  but  somehow  I  was  less 
at  home  there  that  evening  than  I  had  ever  been 
before — I  felt  left  out  of  the  circle.  Hans 
Reichardt  came  to  see  his  bride,  and  I  took  my 
departure  early.  Mother  Magdalis's  vx^ords  rung 
in  my  ears,  "  It  is  a  blessed  thing  to  have  a  home." 
Home ! — the  word  came  to  my  heart  with  a  new 
meaning  that  evening.  It  means  very  much;  and 
for  the  first  time  I  felt  this  the  convent  could 
never  be  ;  a  shelter  from  wind  and  rain  it  might 
be — a  refuge  for  the  weary — a  refectory  for  the 
hungi-y — a  place  to  eat  and  sleep  and  live  in — 
but  home  meant  something  more. 

Who  had  shut  me  out  from  this  ?  Who  had  a 
right  to  say  that  this  word,  this  holy  thing,  might 
never  be  mine  ? 

For  many  days  these  things  rankled  in  my 
heart,  and  sad  havoc  they  made  there.  Till  then, 
I  had  not  a  want  beyond  the  convent  walls  and 
the  society  of  the  brethren ;  now,  my  heart  had 
looked  beyond  the  old  walls ;  and  they  girded  me 
in  like  a  prison.  I  was  not  then  bound  by  any 
vows,  and  it  was  well. 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  13 

I  did  not  venture  to  tell  any  of  the  brethren 
what  I  felt ;  I  did  not  believe  it  to  be  sin,  but  I 
knew  they  would  all  misunderstand  me. 

This  lasted  until  one  of  our  evening  Scripture 
readings — for  in  our  convent  we  still  adhere  to 
the  rule  of  reading  through  a  portion  of  the 
Scriptures  in  the  winter  evenings.  I  seated  myself 
among  the  rest,  prepared  to  be  once  more  a 
weary  listener  to  the  oft-told  tale.  (Alas !  how 
little  I  knew  of  its  blessed  meaning !)  The  reader 
stood  at  his  desk,  intoning  the  words  in  his  lull- 
ing sing-song ;  the  appointed  monk  Avent  his 
rounds  with  the  lantern,  to  see  that  none  of  us 
fell  asleep.  The  monotonous  A^oice  of  the  reader 
— the  uniform  tread  of  the  lantern-bearer — the 
monotonous  recurrence  of  convent  duties — all 
grated  like  so  many  instruments  of  torture  on  my 
impatient  heart.  In  health,  Ave  do  not  notice 
habitual  sights  and  sounds,  but  in  a  fever,  the 
sloAv  dropping  of  Avater  from  the  eaves  seems  at 
each  fall  to  eat  into  the  brain.  And  this,  I 
thought,  is  to  be  for  life !  My  heart  sickened  and 
sank  under  the  intolerable  burden  of  countless  to- 
morroAvs,  all  like  to-day.  And  beside  tliis  weary 
circle  of  fruitless  toil  arose  the  haunting  thought 
of  liome — fresh  sjirings  of  love,  ever  fresh — life 
growing,  Avidening,  deepening,  day  by  day  around 
us,  and  all  centering  in  that  inner  sanctuary  of 
love,  the  home. 

I  Avas  aroused  from  my  dreams  and  murmurs 
by  some  Avords  from  the  gospel,  which  fell  on 


14  THE   DIAllY   OF 

my  ear  suddenly,  as  if  I  heard  them  for  the  first 
time: — 

"  For  even  the  Son  of  man  came  not  to  he 
ministered  zmto,  but  to  minister,  and  to  give 
his  life  a  ransom  for  many." 

For  the  first  time,  the  idea  of  self-sacrifice  came 
to  me  with  all  the  exalted  joy  the  thought  can 
bring — the  thouglit  of  laying  down  myself,  my 
life,  for  others.  I  arose  from  that  evening  reading 
strengthened  and  refreshed,  for  I  had  a  purpose — 
and  life  is  never  quite  barren  to  us  if  we  have  one 
living  purpose  to  sow  in  it,  to  grow  and  to  bring 
forth  fruit. 

The  thought  of  His  life  took  possession  of  me. 
I  longed,  I  prayed,  I  strove  to  be  made  like  Him 
— the  holy  child  Jesus — like  Him  who  went  about 
doing  good. 

I  made  a  collection  in  the  convent,  to  furnish 
Nannerl's  house — I  labored  in  the  convent  gar- 
den to  rear  vecretables  for  the  sick — I  traveled 
leagues  through  the  pine  forests,  in  the  frost  and 
snow,  to  visit  them — but  the  more  I  read  of  the 
life  of  Jesus,  the  moi'e  unattainable  the  perfect 
model  seemed.  Are  not  the  stars  as  far  from  the 
mountains  as  from  the  valleys  ?  The  more  I  heard 
of  the  law  of  God,  the  more  I  saw  how  far  it 
carried  its  claims  upon  the  heart ;  and  the  heart 
was  precisely  the  thing  which  all  my  eflbrts  could 
not  reach. 

1  could  labor  for  the  sick,  I  could  toil  and  plead 
for  Nannerl  and  her  husband,  but  I  could  not 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  15 

expel  the  repining  thought  from  my  heart  when 
I  came  back  from  her  bright  fireside  to  these  dull, 
cold,  convent  walls. 

But  yet  again  God  came  to  me  and  completed 
the  work  He  liad  begun.  The  second  j^art  of  my 
text  liealed  the  wound  the  first  liad  made.  How 
strange  it  was  that  I  did  not  see  it  all  at  once ! — 

"  The  Son  of  man  came  not  to  be  ministered 
imto,  but  to  minister,  and  to  give  his  life  a  ransom 
for  many.'''' 

The  ransom  is  needed — for  Avhom  ?  Surely, 
for  the  sentenced  criminal — for  those  who,  not 
being  able  to  fulfill  the  perfect  law,  can  read  in  it 
notliing  but  their  condemnation — that  is,  for  me. 
The  ransom  is  paid — for  whom  ?  Surely  for  those 
who  need  it.  The  ransom  is  23aid ; — then  the 
prisoner  is  free.  /  o;?^  free  !  "  There  is  now  no 
condemnation  to  those  who  are  in  Christ  Jesus." 
It  is  faith  in  this  which  gives  strength  to  v/alk, 
not  in  the  flesh,  but  in  the  Spirit. 

From  that  time,  my  whole  life  has  been 
changed,  Jesus.,  the  Son  of  God,  the  Lamb  of 
God,  our  Ransom,  our  Pattern,  our  Friend,  He 
has  redeemed  me — I  am  His,  and  His  cause  is 
mine.  The  self-denial,  which  had  been  impossible 
as  a  sacrifice  of  expiation,  became  the  joy  of  my 
life  as  a  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving.  With  the  eye 
of  Ilim  who  died  for  us — and  dying,  saved  us — • 
Avatching  our  lives,  what  is  not  possible?  I 
learned  that  before  we  can  be  servants  of  God, 
we  must  be  made  children  of  God. 


16  THE  DIARY   OF 

Since  then,  I  have  lost  those  restless  yearnings 
for  an  earthly  home.  I  have  a  home  in  heaven, 
and  my  Father  has  sent  me  hither,  for  a  little 
while,  to  call  more  of  His  children  to  Him,  and 
to  minister  to  all  who  need :— thus  journeying, 
and  singing  as  I  go,  I  am  hastening  homeivard. 
I  am  happy,  and  can  rejoice  heartily  in  the  hap- 
piness of  Nannerl  and  Keichardt.  In  the  convent, 
as  well  as  elsewhere,  we  can  bear  one  another's 
burdens,  and  so  fulfill  the  law  of  Christ. 

And,  perhaps,  in  this  tumultuous  world,  it  is 
well  that  there  should  be  some  set  apart  on  high, 
so  that  the  strife  and  eager  chases  of  the  present 
may  sound  to  them  faint  as  those  of  the  past, 
with  no  seasons  but  the  seasons  of  heaven  ; — like 
church-towers  rising  above  the  common  homes  of 
men,  yet  echoing  with  deep  tones  their  joys  and 
sorrows,  and  telling  them,  amidst  their  toils  and 
pleasures,  how  the  time  is  passing. 

Yet,  if  any  ask  my  advice  as  to  leading  a  re- 
ligious life,  I  usually  say,  "  My  child,  in  your 
home  you  are  sure  God  has  placed  you.  There 
He  is  sure  to  bless  you.  Be  quite  sure  that  He 
calls  you  away  before  you  change.  He  knows 
what  work  to  give  His  servants,  and  in  good 
time  He  is  sure  to  let  them  know." 

April  9. — S.  Gregory  Nazianzen,  Bishop  and 
Doctor. 

I  am  just  returned  from  a  preaching  tour 
amongst  the  villages  of  the  forest  (anciently  called 


BKOTHER    BARTHOLOMEW.  17 

of  Odin),  with  two  choristers  and  a  deacon,  to 
celebrate  the  mass,  and  preach  the  Easter  sermons. 

Much  grieved  at  discovering  in  some  of  the 
peasants'  houses  a  superstitious  reverence  and 
fear  of  the  old  heathen  gods  (or  demons) — the 
people  in  many  places  using  pagan  charms  and 
incantations  against  them,  and  even  endeavoring 
to  propitiate  them  with  wheaten  cakes  and  other 
offerino-s.  I  told  them  that  either  the  old  gods 
and  goddesses  were  nothing^  and  therefore  could 
do  nothing  either  for  or  against  them ;  or  they 
were  fiends,  and  God  was  stronger  than  they ; 
and  that,  when  affrighted  at  night,  or  in  lonely 
places,  they  should  have  recourse  to  prayer  and 
to  the  sign  of  the  holy  cross.  Some  places, 
where  the  apparitions  and  wicked  demons  seem 
to  have  been  more  than  commonly  malignant,  I 
pui-ified  and  exorcised,  sprinkling  them  with 
holy  water.  Nevertheless,  in  my  sermons,  and 
at  all  times,  I  told  the  people,  that  it  is  only  sin 
which  gives  the  devil  power  over  us,  and  that 
none  but  those  whose  hearts  are  turned  to  God, 
through  hearty  repentance  and  true  faith,  are 
safe  anywhere.  I  mourn  much  that  these  things 
are  not  oftener  proclaimed  by  our  brethren ;  also, 
that  they  have  given  the  peasants  images  of 
saints  instead  of  their  old  gods — which  they  often 
confound,  in  their  blindness,  in  a  very  profane 
manner. 

As  we  went  on  our  way,  I  and  my  companions 
made  the  woods  resound,  from  time  to  time, 
2* 


18  THE   DIARY   Of 

with  psalms  and  holy  hymns,  thus  lightening  the 
way;  and  thus  also,  towards  nightfall,  eflfect- 
ually  keeping  the  powers  of  darkness  avaunt, 
the  deacon  Theodore  being  of  somewhat  a  fear- 
some spirit.  At  other  times,  I  meditated  on 
some  holy  text,  the  theme  of  my  next  day's  dis- 
course, refreshing  myself  with  the  living  bread 
wherewith  I  afterwards  fed  the  people.  At 
night,  we  cut  down  branches  from  the  trees,  and 
made  palisades  around  our  beasts  of  burden, 
which  carried  the  holy  vessels  and  vestments ; 
lighting  watchfires,  also,  to  scare  away  wild 
beasts  and  other  evil  things. 

Once  I  awoke  at  dead  of  night,  hearing  a 
strange  I'ustling  amongst  the  fir  twigs  which 
covered  the  ground,  and  a  cracking  of  boughs, 
mingled  with  stifled,  unearthly  cries.  Moreover, 
by  the  moonlight,  which  came  down  in  strange 
and  shifting  patterns  on  the  bare  trunks,  and  on 
the  ground,  I  perceived  some  dark  object  flitting 
rapidly  away  amongst  the  distant  pine-stems. 
Whereat  I  arose,  and,  stirring  the  watchfires, 
commenced  singing  the  fourth  Psalm  in  a  loud 
voice.  When  I  had  concluded  the  last  verse, 
crossing  myself  on  brow  and  breast,  I  laid  me 
down  in  peace  and  slejDt. 

In  the  morning  our  best  ass  was  gone.  With- 
out it  we  could  scarcely  proceed,  the  otlier  beasts 
being  slow-paced  and  old ;  yet  without  it  we 
feared  to  return,  the  creature  being  a  favorite 
with  our  loi'd  the  Abbot.     Wherefore,  kneeling 


BROTHER    BARTHOLOMEW.  19 

down,  we  laid  our  trouble  before  God,  pleading 
that  it  was  His  errand  on  which  we  were  jour- 
neying,  and  telling  Plini  of  our  sore  need  ;  our 
lord  the  Abbot  being  withal  a  man  of  a  hasty- 
spirit.  How  marvelously  He  heard  the  prayers 
of  His  servants,  the  sequel  will  show. 

A  few  days  thereafter,  I  preached  in  a  certain 
village,  on  the  commandments,  dwelling,  amongst 
the  rest,  on  the  sin  of  theft.  Great  power  was 
present  to  smite  the  consciences  of  the  hearers. 
Many  wept,  and  before  the  close  of  my  sermon, 
one  came  forth,  and  before  them  all  cried  out, 
"Lay  on  me  what  penance  you  will.  It  is  I 
who  stole  the  Abbot's  ass." 

The  Avhole  assembly  were  greatly  moved,  and 
would  have  fallen  on  tlie  thief,  but  hastily  de- 
scending from  the  pulpit,  I  went  to  him,  and  as 
he  knelt  before  me,  I  said — 

"  Thou  seest,  my  son,  that  the  eyes  of  the 
Lord  are  in  every  place,  seeing  in  the  darkness 
of  the  pine  forest  at  midnight,  as  in  the  assembly 
at  midday.  Thou  canst  not  fly  from  Him,  for 
He  is  everywhere;  thou  needest  not  fly  from 
Him,  for  He  is  ready  to  forgive.  It  is  because 
thou  hast  not  known  His  grace,  that  thou  hast 
despised  His  law.  But  if  now  thou  repentest, 
and  with  thine  heart  believest,  I,  although  a 
sinner  as  thou  art,  absolve  thee  from  thy  sin." 
He  had  been  a  very  fierce  robber,  the  terror  of 
the  neighborhood. 

After  the  service  he  brought  the  ass  to  the 


20  THE   DIARY    OF 

door.  As  I  left  the  place,  the  people  thronged 
around  us  to  seek  my  blessing ;  and  lifting  up 
my  hands  I  blessed  theni,  many  weeping  and 
kissing  my  hands.  But  I  turned  and  said, 
"Mourn  not,  my  brethren,  that  ye  see  me  no 
more ;  but  look,  I  pray  you,  to  Plira  whose  arms 
were  stretched  out  on  tlie  cross  to  save  you — 
whoso  hands  are  lifted  up  always  to  bless  you. 
Look  to  Him !  " 

The  robber  went  forth  with  us,  althonirh  the 
deacon  Theodore  much  misliked  his  company. 
Pie  spoke  not  a  word  for  many  miles,  walking, 
with  head  bowed  down,  at  my  ass's  head. 

At  last,  as  it  grew  dusk,  and  we  were  entering 
on  a  thick  part  of  the  Odcnwald,  said  to  be  in- 
fested Avith  plunderers,  brother  Theodore  came 
to  my  side  and  whispered — 

"  Were  it  not  better  to  send  this  man  away  ? 
He  may  have  too  many  friends  here." 

But  I  answered,  in  the  words  of  the  wise  kincf, 
"  The  hearts  of  men  are  as  the  rivers  of  water ; 
He  turnelli  them  whithersoever  He  v/ill.  Let  us 
not  hinder  His  work  on  this  poor  soul." 

At  length  the  shadows  foil  around  us,  and, 
coming  to  a  glade  of  the  forest,  we  alighted  for 
our  night's  encampment.  The  robber  continued 
with  us,  serving  us  much  in  hewing  branches  and 
lighting  our  fires,  he  being  more  skilled  in  such 
work  than  we. 

After  offering  our  vesper  prayer  and  hymn,  I 
lay  down  to  sleep,  none  making  me  afraid. 


BEOTHEK   BARTHOLOMEW.  21 

The  robber  sat  watching  the  fires,  whilst 
brother  Theodore  lay,  with  half-closed  eyes, 
watching  him.  But  the  peace  of  God  kept  my 
heart,  and  I  slept  soundly. 

About  midnight  I  awoke,  startled  by  the 
crackling  of  the  watchfires.  The  robber  sat  close 
to  ray  head,  stirring  one  of  the  fires  with  a  huge 
pine-log.  I  arose  and  seated  myself  opposite  to 
him. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  leaning  on  the  log,  his  dark 
strong  features  glowing  in  the  red  light — "  thou 
art  a  man  of  peace,  but  thou  hast  courage ;  know- 
est  thou  who  I  am  ?" 

"  I  know,  my  son,"  I  replied,  "  that  thou  hast 
been  a  great  sinner ;  but  I  trust  one  stronger 
than  thou  is  melting  thy  heart." 

"I  am  he  whom  the  peasants  call  Otho  the 
Thunderbolt,"  he  said.  "  My  name  has  been  a 
terror  to  thousands,  yet  thou  fearest  me  not.  I 
have  many  bold  followers  in  this  foi-est ;  if  I  were 
to  give  one  of  my  gathering-ci'ies,  in  half-an-hour 
you  would  see  fifty  men  around  these  fires." 

''The  name  of  the  Lord,"  I  said  "is  more 
terrible  than  yours,  my  son ;  but  to  those  Avho 
trust  in  it,  it  is  a  strong  tower :  the  righteous 
runneth  into  it  and  is  safe.  The  voice  of  the 
Lord  is  stronger  than  yours  ;  and  legions  of  His 
angels  encamp  around  those  that  fear  Ilim.  I 
have  not  much  courage,  but  I  have  faith,  which 
is  stronger." 

"  I  know  it,  father,"  he  replied ;  "  I,  too,  know 


22  THE   DIAKY    OF 

that  the  voice  of  God  is  strong,  for  it  has  made 
my  heart  tremble  like  a  reed.  He  is  mighty,  and 
He  is  against  me,  for  I  have  sinned." 

"  Nay,  He  is  for  you,"  I  said,  "  for  He  came 
to  save  the  sinner." 

Then  he  unfolded  to  me  the  terrible  story  of 
his  life  of  violence,  and  I  unfolded  to  him  the 
good  tidings. 

It  was  a  strange  chapel — the  wind  roaring  ia 
the  tops  of  the  pine-trees,  and  driving  the  clouds 
overhead;  and  a  strange  audience — the  Avolves 
howling  around  the  fires — the  chief  of  a  robber 
band ;  but  are  not  all  places  holy  for  holy  words  ? 

And  the  heart  which  had  never  quailed  before 
man,  but  had  quivered  in  the  grasp  of  the  Al- 
mighty, melted  as  a  child's  at  the  story  of  the 
love  and  sacrifice  of  Jesus. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  "  can  you  admit  one  like 
me  within  your  holy  walls  ?  The  meanest  office 
would  be  welcome  to  me — the  meaner  the  fitter 
for  me,  if  only  I  might  work  for  the  poor  I  have 
robbed." 

"  Nay,"  I  said,  "  go  and  tell  thy  companions 
what  great  things  the  Lord  hath  done  for  thee. 
Mayhap  they  too  will  repent  and  believe." 

"  I  will  return,"  he  said,  bitterly,  "  if  you  will 
not  receive  me ;  but  it  is  scarcely  possible  for  one 
like  me  to  lead  an  honest  life  amongst  those  who 
have  known  me.  They  would  say.  The  old  wolf 
has  clothed  himself  in  sheepskin,  but  he  shall  not 
deceive  us  jjy  that." 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  23 

"  Go,  then,"  I  said,  "  and  seek  to  restore  your 
comrades,  and  afterwards  repair  to  Marienthal : 
there  ye  shall  all  find  an  asylum  and  a  sanctuary." 

Before  the  morning  broke  he  was  gone. 

The  sun  arose,  throwing  slanting  rays  up  across 
the  pinestems,  the  birds  awoke  and  sang,  and  the 
leaves  trembled  and  glittered  with  the  drops  of 
dew — and  we  went  on  our  way  rejoicing:  for, 
that  night,  had  not  the  day-spring  from  on  high 
arisen  on  one  who  sat  in  darkness  and  the  shadow 
of  death  ? 

Otho  the  Thunderbolt,  and  three  of  his  com- 
panions, are  now  inmates  of  our  Abbey.  We 
think  it  best  to  employ  them  as  much  as  possible. 
They  therefore  fell  our  firewood,  draw  our  water, 
keep  our  cattle,  and  help  to  clear  more  of  the 
forest  for  tillage.  The  rest  of  their  time  they 
spend  in  learning  and  reciting  psalms  and  litanies, 
and  in  listening  to  our  solemn  services.  Otho, 
moreover,  contrives  to  find  leisure  to  weave  mats 
and  nets,  the  price  of  which  be  lays  up  for  future 
restitution. 

This  event  has  greatly  strengthened  those 
amongst  us  who  are  truly  seeking  to  lead  a  re- 
ligious  life,  and  has  urged  us  afresh  to  prayer. 
But  some,  alas !  continue  idle  and  vain,  caring 
for  none  of  these  things — for  here,  as  elsewhere, 
our  Lord  and  the  devil  have  both  their  disciples. 

Jum  1. —  Vigil  of  the  Nativity  of  St.  John  the 
JBaptist. 


24  THE   DIARY    OF 

We  have  entertained  an  angel  since  last  I 
wrote.  The  holy  Abbot  Bernard,  of  Clairvaux, 
has  stayed  with  us  a  day  and  a  night — ever  mem- 
orable at  Marienthal.  He  came  to  preach  the 
Crusade. 

It  is  marvelous  into  Vvhat  a  ferment  his  coming 
has  thrown  the  Avhole  of  Germany.  People 
flocked  from  the  towns  and  villages  to  meet  him, 
bringing  with  them  the  sick  on  litters,  that  he 
might  heal  them  with  his  touch — those  esteeming 
themselves  blessed  who  could  kiss  his  hands.  The 
churches  were  filled,  and -even  tlie  churchyards, 
Avhen  he  preached,  and  men  have  taken  the  cross 
by  hundreds.  At  Marienthal  the  peasants  wept 
and  sobbed  at  his  sermon,  although  they  could 
not  understand  a  word  he  said — at  which  I  mar- 
veled greatly. 

Scarcely  could  they  have  received  the  Lord 
Christ  himself  with  more  devoted  reverence :  in- 
deed, I  wonder  much  that  they  sliould  pay  such 
homage  to  the  words  of  His  servant,  and  so  little 
to  His  own.  I  fear  for  them,  lest  they  be  honor- 
ing the  voice  more  than  the  Avords.  Yet  truly 
he  is  a  man  of  a  noble  presence,  and  of  a  very 
lowly  mind. 

In  the  pulpit  liis  eyes  flash  like  flame,  but  iu 
the  confessional  they  are  soft  as  any  dove's.  His 
stature  is  low,  but  his  brow  and  bearing  are  so 
calm,  and  so  full  of  gentle  command,  that  the 
proudest  bow  naturally  before  liim — not  thinking 
of  refusing  what  he  never  thinks  of  demanding. 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  25 

He  seems  Avorn  out  by  the  fervor  of  his  piety 
and  the  severity  of  his  life ;  yet  the  ardor  which 
is  wasting  his  frame  is  mild  as  the  first  sunshine 
of  May  to  all  else.  At  the  Abbot's  table,  more 
than  once,  I  heard  him  laugh  joyously  as  a  child. 
Nevertheless,  there  is  something  in  him  I  would 
shrink  from  encounterinar  as  a  foe. 

When  one  of  us  remarked  on  the  austerities 
which  had  so  emaciated  him,  he  said — 

"  The  cross  of  Christ  is  such  a  burden  as  wings 
are  to  a  bird — bearing  it  aloft."  * 

To  us  he  spoke  as  St.  Paul  might  of  the  inward 
confiict,  and  the  inward  strength,  the  grace  of 
God  and  the  reconciliation  wrought  by  Christ. 
"  Blessed,"  he  says,  "  are  those  to  whom  God 
has  taught  the  meaning  of  the  words,  '  Ye  are  my 
friends ;  Avhatsoever  I  have  heard  of  my  Father,  I 
have  made  known  unto  you.' " 

In  the  Abbey  he  left  behind  him  a  holy  calm. 
We  felt  that  the  place  was  holy  gi-ound,  because 
He  who  dwelleth  in  His  saints  had  been  there. 

He  gave  a  lamentable  account  of  the  world  and 
the  Church — bishops  and  priests  buying  and 
selling  holy  things.  Christian  princes  fighting  one 
another ;  and,  meantime,  the  Turk  ruling  in  the 
Holy  Land,  and  the  heretics — Cathari,  Paulicians, 
and  Man ichees— poisoning  the  wells  of  Christian 
life  within  the  camp. 

There  are  many  of  these  heretics,  he  says,  on 
the  Rhine,   and  in  Bohemia,  and  the  south   of 

*  See  "  St.  Bernard's  Lettere." 


26  THE    DIxVRY    OF 

France,  who  deny  the  Divine  authority  of  the 
sacred  priesthood,  and  mock  at  the  holy  sacra- 
ments, mimicking  them  in  their  secret  assemblies 
— all  the  more  dangerous,  the  holy  Abbot  says, 
because  of  the  blameless  moral  lives  of  many  of 
them,  and  their  upholding  their  errors  from  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  which  they  know  and  pervert  in 
a  wonderful  manner.  Yet  is  he  averse  fronx 
killing  them,  having  compassion  on  their  lost 
souls,  and  dreading  the  effect  of  public  executions 
in  spreading  their  madness,  and  giving  notoriety 
to  their  errors. 

He  is  also  very  earnest  against  the  recent 
slaughter  of  the  Jews  on  the  banks  of  the  Khiue, 
which  some  have  rashly  styled  a  "  crusade," 
saying,  that  the  true  weapons  wherewith  to  con- 
quer them  are  the  Word  of  God  and  prayer. 
Many  have  already  been  converted  by  these  means. 

j^ote. — Why  not  the  same  for  tlie  Turks  ?  They 
are,  however,  without  question,  very  wicked  and 
obstinate  infidels,  and  have  no  right  to  the  Holy 
Land. 

Two  of  the  companions  of  Otho  the  Thunder- 
bolt were  very  urgent  to  be  suffered  to  take  the 
cross,  and  return  Avith  the  venerable  Abbot,  Vv-ho 
seemed  nowise  im willing  to  receive  them, 
"  deeming,"  he  said,  "  such  an  enterprise  doubly 
beneficial,  since  their  departure  would  be  as  wel- 
come to  their  friends  as  their  presence  to  those 
they  went  to  assist."  *     But  I  ventured  strenu- 

*  See  "  St.  Bernard  to  the  Templars." 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  27 

ously  to  oppose  their  design,  fearing  that,  to 
minds  so  recently  enlightened,  the  distinction 
between  spoiling  the  Turks  for  Christ's  sake,  and 
plundering  the  Germans  for  their  own,  might  not 
be  so  clear  as  could  be  wished.  The  holy  Bernard 
deigned  to  be  guided  by  my  remonstrances. 

Note. — It  is  a  pity  that  the  holy  Abbot  should 
adhere  to  the  novel  rule  of  the  Cistertians ;  but 
he  is,  notwithstanding,  doubtless  a  man  of  God. 
Indeed,  had  it  not  been  for  our  conviction  of  his 
especial  sanctity,  we  certainly  could  not  have 
received  one  of  that  rule  at  our  Abbey.* 

July  29. — SS.  Peter  and  Paul. 

I  have  done  a  deed  this  week,  whether  good 
or  evil  I  shall  know  hereafter,  but  otherwise  I 
could  not  do. 

When  I  went  to  Magdalis's  cottage  this 
morning,  I  found  her  wringing  her  hands  and 
weeping  bitterly,  the  room  unswept  and  in  dis- 
order, and  Karl  standing  with  folded  arms  before 
the  fire,  looking  very  sullen  and  determined. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?"  I  exclaimed ;  "  what 
has  happened  ?" 

"Nothing!"  replied  Karl,  gruffly,  "but  that 

*  The  quarrels  between  rival  monastic  orders  sometimes  ran  very 
high.  The  Cluniac  monks  refused  the  rites  of  hospitality  to  the 
Cistertians,  and  the  compliment  was  returned,  although  the  two 
heads  of  the  orders  seem  to  have  been  far  more  forbearing — the 
venerable  Peter  and  St,  Bernard  having  been,  personally,  cordial 
friends. 


28  THE    DIAliY    OF 

my  mother  does  not  want  to  spare  me  to  be  a 
soldier  of  the  holy  Cross." 

"Nothing!"  sobbed  poor  Magdalis;  "will 
Father  Bartholomew  call  that  nothing! — for  an 
only  son  to  leave  his  wido^ved  mother  to  the 
mercy  of  strangers,  that  he  may  go  and  be  killed 
amongst  the  heathen  Turks  and  Jews  ?" 

I  could  not  altogether  approve  of  Mother  Mag- 
dalis's  view  of  the  Holy  Wars,  but  neither  did  I 
feel  sure  of  the  genuineness  of  my  foster-brother's 
vocation  to  fight  in  them.  He  is  at  best  but  a 
willful  lad,  although  sound  at  the  core,  and  for 
some  months  he  had  been  growing  weary  of  the 
monotonous  toil  of  his  peasant  life.  Wherefore 
I  represented  to  him  that  the  call  must  be  very 
strong  which  could  make  it  a  duty  for  him  to 
desert  his  mother,  and  asked  him,  since  the 
redemption  of  the  Holy  Land  lay  so  very  near 
his  heart,  Avhen  this  loud  call  from  heaven  had 
been  vouchsafed  him. 

He  looked  puzzled  for  an  instant ;  then,  draw- 
ing his  hand  impatiently  through  his  long  brown 
hair,  he  said — 

"  You  know  well  I  am  no  scholar :  about  calls 
and  vocations  I  understand  very  little ;  but  this  I 
know — half  the  next  village  are  going  to  Pa- 
lestine, and  the  lord  of  Erbach-Erbach  has  prom- 
ised to  make  me  his  armor-bearer  if  I  will  go. 
And  how  expect  a  young  fellow  like  me  to  toil 
away  his  youth  in  earning  a  scanty  pittance  of 
daily  bread,  when  he  has  the  chance  of  seeing  the 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  29 

world,  and  coming  back  rich  enough  to  be  head 
peasant  of  tlie  district  in  a  few  years  ?" 

"  How  many  came  back  from  the  last  crusade  ?" 
moaned  Magdalis.  "  Ask  the  old  men  of  the 
village  that! — and  who  would  not  rather  be  a 
serf  of  the  good  monks  of  Marienthal,  than  a 
retainer  of  the  proud  lords  of  Erbach  ?  And 
Nannerl,  too,  how  she  will  grieve,  and  poor  little 
Gretchen!" 

"  Gretchen  will  not  care,"  said  the  young  man, 
coloring.  "Gretchen's  grandfother  was  a  mer- 
chant  of  one  of  the  free  imperial  cities,  and 
she  says  she  will  never  wed  a  serf  of  the  soil." 

"What  does  it  matter  what  that  silly  child 
says?"  said  Magdalis,  half  petulantly ;  "  you  Avill 
be  killed,  and  then  she  will  be  as  sorry  as  any  of 
us,  poor  vain  wench !" 

Karl's  lip  cui-led,  but  he  did  not  look  altogether 
displeased. 

"  The  War  of  the  Cross  is  a  holy  war,"  he 
said ;  "  and  if  I  die,  mother,  you  will  know  that 
I  am  safe,  and  Father  Rudolph,  who  preached 
the  crusade  on  the  Rhine,  says  one  wound 
from  the  Turk  is  worth  fifty  Pater  Nosters." 

Magdalis  was  too  wretched  to  controvert  either 
his  theology  or  his  purpose ;  but  as  I  looked  at 
his  manly  form,  and  his  bold,  bright  eye,  I  felt 
still  more  doubtful  as  to  his  heavenly  vocation  to 
the  Cross,  and  I  said,  "  Well,  I  would  not  inter- 
fere with  a  pious  vow,  Karl,  but  I  came  to  tell 

you  that  the  old  Abbey  huntsman  died  last  week, 
3* 


30  THE    DIARY    OF 

and  I  thought  you  might  have  filled  his  place,  as 
you  are  a  famous  marksman." 

Karl  turned  suddenly  to  me. 

"  Well,  Father  Bartholomew,"  he  said,  after  a 
short  pause,  "  I  am  no  scholar,  and,  as  I  said, 
know  little  of  calls  and  vocations — after  all,  it 
might  be  a  mistake ; — could  you  really  get  me 
appointed  Abbey  huntsman — and  made  free  ?" 

"  I  might  try,  Karl,"  I  said ;  "  but  far  be  it  from 
me  to  tempt  you  to  resist  a  call  from  heaven,  or 
to  neglect  a  sacred  vow." 

Karl  rubbed  his  forehead  and  looked  up  and 
down,  half  puzzled  and  half  convicted ;  at  length 
he  stammered — 

"  I  am  a  poor  unlettered  man ;  I  do  not  know 
that  it  was  exactly  a  vow,  Father  Bartholomew ; 
and  even  if  it  were,  could  you  not  j^erhaps 
manage  that  for  me  too?" 

I  could  not  help  smiling  as  I  shook  his  hand 
and  took  leave. 

In  a  few  weeks  Gretchen  is  to  be  married  to 
the  Abbey  huntsman.  The  saints  intercede  for 
me  if  I  have  done  wrong!  After  all,  Karl  will 
be  in  the  service  of  the  Church. 

And  I  sometimes  wonder  if  the  Saviour  cares 
as  much  for  His  deserted  sepulchre  as  so  many 
now  do. 

Are  not  His  living  habitations  far  better  ? 

"  The  poor  ye  have  always  with  you." 

"In  that  ye  did  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of 
these  my  brethren,  ye  did  it  unto  me." 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  81 

And  St.  Paul  writes  to  each  one  of  the  faith- 
ful: "Know  ye  not  that  your  bodies  are  the 
temples  of  the  Holy  Ghost?" 

Why,  then,  travel  so  far  to  the  site  of  an  over- 
thrown  temple  and  an  empty  tomb  ? 
"  He  is  not  there — He  is  risen." 
He  is  not  there  only,  for,  where  two  or  three 
are  in  His  name,  there  is  He. 
St.  Peter,  St.  Paul,  St.  Thomas,  St.  Bartholomew, 

and  all  the  holy  Apostles  and  Evangelists; 

St.  Stephen,  St.  Clement,  St.  Pothinus  with  thy 

companions ; 

St.  IrenjBus  with  thy  companions ; 

St.  Sebastian,  St.  Laurence,  and  all  the  holy 

jMartyrs ; 

St.  Augustine,  St.  Ambrose,  St.  Gregory,  and  all 

the  holy  Doctors ; 

All  the  holy  Pontiffs, 

All  the  holy  Monks  and  Hermits, 

All  the  holy  Virgins  and  Widows, 

Omnes  sancti  and  sanctse  Dei, 

Orate  pro  me, 

if  I  have  erred. 

July  10. 

On  the  eve  of  the  Feast  of  the  Transfigura- 
tion,  a  strange  monk  begged  admittance  into  our 
Abbey.  He  bore  letters  of  recommendation  from 
the  venerable  Peter,  Abbot  of  Clugni,  and  we  re- 
ceived liim  gladly. 

He  is  a  noticeable  man,  tall,  Avith  a  complexion 


32  THE    DIAKY    OF 

that  tells  of  a  southern  sun ;  his  eyes  are  very 
dark  and  piercing — they  seem  always  still ;  and 
yet,  whenever  you  look  at  hira,  they  are  fixed  on 
you.  His  bearing  is  more  that  of  a  soldier  than 
of  a  monk — and  of  a  soldier  more  used  to  com- 
mand than  to  obey  ;  yet  is  he  wonderfully  lowly 
and  submissive,  and  ready  to  perform  the  most 
servile  offices  if  directed  by  his  superiors.  He 
calls  himself  Conrad.  He  says  little,  perhaps 
because  he  speaks  German  with  a  slight  lisp,  and 
with  difficulty,  nevertheless  not  as  if  his  throat 
were  seAvn  up  like  a  Frenchman's,  but  with  a 
manly  force.  He  also  talks  Latin,  so  that  I  un- 
derstand him  easily,  although  brother  Lupacius 
avers  that  his  idiom  is  not  that  of  the  ancient 
Romans;  no  reproach,  I  trow,  to  a  Christian 
man.  ' 

In  no  language,  however,  does  he  say  much, 
his  thoughts  seeming  for  the  most  part  turned  in- 
ward, and  not  happy,  although  he  has  a  singular 
way  of  seeing  everything  Avhilst  apparently  look- 
ing at  nothing. 

Most  of  lis  stand  rather  in  awe  of  him,  but  the 
stranire,  taciturn  man  attaches  me  to  him ;  also, 
he  seemeth  not  to  mislike  my  company. 

August  13. 

A  company  of  Lombard  merchants  has  been 
here  to-day  with  silks  from  Greece  and  Asia,  and 
other  curious  Eastern  wares. 

The  Abbot  bought  some  beautiful  rare  stones, 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  33 

to  ornament  withal  a  copy  of  the  missal  which 
brother  Theodore,  a  curious  man  in  all  arts  and 
handicrafts,  has  lately  illuminated. 

Also  some  of  the  brotherhood  purchased  several 
ells  of  fine  stuff  for  their  hoods  and  scapularies. 
I  marveled  to  see  how  curious  they  were  in  their 
choice,*  running  the  cloth  through  their  fingers 
— holding  it  up  to  the  light — disposing  it  around 
them  in  cunning  folds — and  discussing  its  merits 
with  the  dealers  and  with  one  another,  as  eagerly 
as  if  it  had  been  an  article  of  the  faith.  Scarce 
could  any  lady  at  the  court  of  my  lord  of  Er- 
bach  have  been  more  dainty.  Methinks,  if  this 
had  been  our  object,  we  might  have  found  a  more 
gallant  costume. 

Brother  Conrad  held  himself  apart  the  while, 
and  once  or  twice  I  saw  a  smile  pass  across  his 
face — but  not  of  mere  amusement. 

The  merchants  spoke  of  a  wonderfully  magni- 
ficent Christian  kingdom  amongst  the  wilds  of 
Asia.  From  their  description,  brother  Lupacius, 
who  studied  at  Paris,  concludes  it  to  be  some- 
where near  the  garden  of  Eden — ^but  many  of  lis 
think  this  a  rash  and  profane  speculation,  deem- 
ing that  the  garden  has  been  taken  up  into 
heaven. 

Tlie  emperor  of  this  country  styles  himself 
Prester,  or  Priest,  John,  although  he  has  princes 
and  kings  amongst  his  servitors,  himself  prefer- 

*  See  Ncander's  "Life  of  St.  Bernard,"  p.  81,  Miss  Wrench's 
translation, 


34  THE   DIARY    OF 

ring  the  title  of  Priest,  as  at  once  more  lowly  and 
more  lofty — a  singular  mark  of  enlightenment 
in  a  barbarous  man. 

Note. — The  merchants  seem  to  understand 
rightly  the  controversy  between  us,  the  old  Be- 
nedictines, and  the  Cistertians,  speaking  evil  of 
these  last,  as  sanctimoniously  austere,  and  ill  pa- 
trons of  commerce  and  the  arts. 

August  24. — St.  Bartholomew.   Holy  Patron, 
2)ray  for  me  ! 

Our  bees  have  prospered  well  this  year,  yield- 
ing a  goodly  store  of  honey  and  meat. 

Monday. 

Brother  Conrad  is  foot-sore  and  ill  from  his 
journey.  It  was  very  long,  and  he  seems  unused 
to  foot-traveling.  Nevertheless,  he  will  not  con- 
sent in  anywise  to  relax  the  severity  of  his  ab- 
stinences. 

This  evening,  I  went  to  his  cell  with  a  healing 
decoction  of  herbs,  which  hath  proved  of  mar- 
velous virtue  amongst  the  peasantry.  As  he  dii* 
not  answer  my  signal,  I  gently  opened  the  door. 
He  was  kneeling  on  the  Hoor,  fervently  grasping 
an  iron  crucifix  to  his  breast.  As  I  entered,  ho 
arose,  and  hastily  threw  his  mantle  around  his 
shoulders,  but  I  could  see  they  were  bleeding 
from  tiie  use  of  the  discipline.  He  asked,  rather 
haughtily,  what  I  wanted.  I  prayed  him  to  let 
me  bathe  liis  feet.     He  refused  my  assistance 


BROTHER    BARTHOLOMEW.  35 

courteonsly,  yet  so  that  I  could  not  press  it.  As 
I  left  the  cell,  he  took  my  hand  and  pressed  it  to 
his  lips,  saying,  "Brother,  thou  hast  a  good  and 
innocent  heart — pray  for  me." 

I  fear  he  has  committed  some  great  sin. 

Tliursday, 

All  the  village  is  in  uproar  about  the  foreign 
monk.  Yesterday,  as  brother  Conrad  Avas  walk- 
ing, he  saw  a  stout  peasant  carle  beating  one  of 
Manuel  Keichardt's  boys,  for  laming  his  mule  by 
hard  riding.  Without  saying  a  Avord,  Conrad 
threw  back  his  cowl,  girded  up  his  garments,  and 
beat  the  man.  At  this  the  peasants  are  enraged, 
calling  him  a  foreign  meddler,  but  Nannerl  takes 
his  part,  as  also  all  the  children,  to  Avhom  he  is 
ever  gentle.  Nannerl's  boy  was,  however,  a 
mischievous  and  idle  rogue  (very  unlike  his 
mother),  and  had  no  right  to  the  mule.  3Iore- 
over,  such  interference  comporteth  not  with  the 
dignity  of  the  religious  habit. 

Our  lord  the  Abbot,  taking  the  matter  into  his 
consideration,  has  condemned  our  brother  to 
penitence,  and  the  seclusion  of  his  cell.  Abstinence 
beyond  what  he  already  practices  is  scarce  pos- 
sible. 

Saturday. 

Our  lord  the  Abbot,  after  matins,  enjoined  on 
brother  Conrad  to  ask  forgiveness  from  the 
peasant  carle. 


36  THE    DIARY    OP 

His  dark  cheek  flushed  high :  "  I  from  a  villain !" 
he  murmured  between  his  teeth. 

"  On  the  obedience  of  a  monk,  I  command  you!" 
said  the  Abbot,  rather  fierily. 

Conrad  bowed  in  acquiescence,  went  to  the 
village,  sought  out  the  peasant,  and  made  the 
required  apology  in  my  presence. 

The  carle  would  have  made  him  a  present  in 
acknowledgment  of  the  condescension,  but  he 
Avould  not  accept  it. 

"  The  slave  deserved  the  chastisement,"  he  said 
to  me,  as  we  returned. 

"The  obedience  of  a  monk  includes  submission 
in  will  as  well  as  in  act,"  I  suggested. 

"I  know  it,"  he  replied;  "I  submit." 

"The  commandment  of  our  Lord  Jesus,"  I 
rejoined,  "  reaches  the  heart  as  well  as  the  will ; 
He  said,  '  Love  your  enemies.' " 

He  looked  down,  and  spoke  no  more  until  we 
reached  the  convent ;  but  in  the  evening,  he  came 
to  my  cell,  and  said — 

"  You  are  no  hypocrite.  Do  you  mean  that  it 
is  possible,  from  the  heart,  to  love  those  Avho  have 
hated,  wronged,  and  meanly  slandered  us — not 
only  to  forbear  taking  vengeance,  but  to  love  ?" 

"  Jesus  said  of  His  murderers,  '  Father,  forgive 
them ;'  and  thousands  of  them  were  forgiven,  and 
are  now  amongst  the  blessed  company  of  His 
redeemed." 

"  Ho  was  God,"  said  Conrad  ;  "  I  am  a  man 
and  a  sinner." 


KROTIIKIi    BAKTIIOLOMKAV.  37 

"  Have  you  then,  yourself,  nothing  that  you 
need  to  be  forgiven  ?" 

He  looked  at  me  earnestly  and  sadly.  "  I 
understand  you,"  he  said,  bitterly ;  "  we  must 
forgive,  that  we  may  be  forgiven.  It  is  hard  to 
do  it,  but  not  to  do  it  is  hell." 

"  Nay,"  I  replied,  "  we  must  forgive,  because 
we  are  forgiven.  We  must  love,  because  we  have 
been  so  loved." 

But  he  seemed  to  have  fallen  again  into  his 
self-enclosed  state,  and  hastily  taking  his  lamp, 
he  left  my  cell. 

Wednesdmj. 

Brother  Conrad  seems  to  have  been  easier  in 
mind  lately,  having  been  actively  employed. 

He  had  observed  that  avc  had  to  draw  all  our 
water  for  the  household,  the  cattle,  and  the 
garden,  from  the  stream  at  the  bottom  of  the 
valley,  which  is  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile  oif. 
He  asked  why  we  did  not  dig  a  Avell.  The  Abbot 
assigned  the  labor,  and  the  uncertainty  of  find- 
ing Avater,  as  the  reason. 

"If  I  am  permitted,"  he  replied,  "I  Avill 
engage  to  accomplish  it  in  a  Aveek,  Avith  one 
laborer." 

Most  of  us  deemed  this  an  idle  boast,  but  Otho 
the  Thunderbolt  had  confidence  in  the  stranger, 
and  freely  offered  to  assist  him. 

They  accordingly  set  about  it  at  once.  In  a 
feAV  days  the  Avater  came  gushing  out  of  the  ex- 


38  TIlE    DIARY    OF 

cavation.  Otho  wondered  at  the  sagacity  with 
which  he  had  fixed  on  the  spot. 

"  I  have  been  many  years  in  the  East,  Avhere 
water  is  scarce,"  he  said  in  explanation.  I  supjiose 
he  was  with  the  crusading  array. 

He  has  also  shown  us  some  new  agricultural 
implements,  used,  he  says,  among  the  Proven9als, 
and  in  Languedoc,  a  people  marvelously  skilled 
in  all  sorts  of  arts  and  handicrafts. 

Friday. 

To-day  a  horse  was  brought  to  the  Abbey  for 
sale.  The  creature  was  beautiful,  but  withal  so 
wicked  and  ill-natured,  that  several  of  our  best 
riders  (and  I  grieve  to  say,  there  are  more  among 
us  than  befits  a  company  of  sober  and  peaceful 
world-renouncing  men,  Avho  are  skilled  in  the 
manege  of  chargers)  were  thrown  violently  to  the 
ground. 

The  horse  was  about  to  be  sent  back,  when 
Conrad,  who  had  been  watching  us  apart,  offered 
to  mount  him. 

First  whispering  in  the  animal's  ear,  he  sprang 
on  his  back,  and  rode  him  round  the  court  and 
v.'hithersoever  he  would,  guiding  him  like  a 
lady's  palfrey. 

When  he  dismounted,  we  all  crowded  round 
him,  marveling  at  his  skill.  But  he  said  care- 
lessly, "I  learned  it  from  the  Arabs.  There  are 
many  among  them  who  ride  fiir  better;"  then 
disengaging  himself  from  us,  he  retired  to  his  cell. 


BROTHER  BARTHOLOMEW.  39 

Brother  Conrad  puzzles  us  all  sorely.  Some  of 
the  brethren  fear  he  may  have  been  a  follower  of 
Mahound,  for  he  spoke  in  some  heathenish  jargon 
to  one  of  the  Italian  merchants,  of  which  none  of 
us  could  understand  a  syllable.  And,  as  brother 
Lupacius  saith,  what  could  he  mean  by  "  learning 
from  the  Arabs?"  how  can  one  learn  anything 
Christian  from  an  Arab  ? 

Yet  I  feel  a  strange  liking  for  him  ;  to  me  he  is 
always  gentle  and  friendly.  Only  sometimes  I 
fear  he  mav  have  mistaken  his  vocation.  Natures 
energetic  as  his,  and  accustomed  to  action,  will 
scarce  find  scope  or  employment  in  the  dead  calm 
of  our  life. 

December 

The  whole  Abbey  has  been  in  a  tumult  for 
some  weeks.  The  sub-prior  is  dead,  and  we  have 
been  engaged  in  electing  a  successor. 

He  lay  sick  for  many  Aveeks,  being  well 
stricken  in  years.  During  his  illness,  there  was 
much  plotting  and  conferring  in  the  convent; 
four  of  the  elder  monks  gathering  groups  of  two 
or  three  at  a  time  around  them  in  corners,  at  our 
hours  of  recreation,  and  talking  earnestly  in  a 
low  voice. 

These  monks  were  very  courteous  to  one 
another ;  yet,  if  one  of  them  saw  another  thus 
engaged  in  converse,  he  would  join  the  group, 
which  was  sure  soon  afterwards  to  disperse. 


40  THE   DIAKY   OF 

These  same  monks  were  very  tender  in  watch- 
ing the  symptoms  of  the  sub-prior's  malady. 

Also,  the  office-bfearers  have  been  mai'velously 
diligent  in  their  business  of  late — increasing 
notably  the  while  in  courtesy  to  all. 

At  length  the  sub-prior  died  and  was  buried. 

For  some  days,  the  whole  brotherhood  stepped 
more  softly,  and  spoke  with  subdued  voices.  I 
mourned  the  old  man  from  my  heart,  for  to  me  he 
had  been  as  a  father,  and  he  had  many  strange 
tales  of  the  olden  times.  Yet  Avere  his  last  years 
so  quiet  and  noiseless — his  voice  has  so  gradually 
become  hushed  among  us — that  it  scarcely  makes 
a  silence,  now  that  it  has  ceased.  May  he  rest  in 
peace !  many  masses  will  I  offer  for  his  soul. 

We  met  in  the  chapter-house,  and  after 
solemnly  chanting  the  Ve7ii  Creator  Sjnritus,  the 
lots  were  cast. 

To  the  surprise  of  us  all,  the  lot  fell  on  brother 
Conrad,  but  he  was  not  to  be  found. 

Whilst  some  of  the  vounger  brethren  went  in 
search  of  him,  the  rest  began  to  Avhisper  together. 
At  first,  the  four  elder  monks,  whom  I  have  men- 
tioned, seemed  relieved  to  find  that  neither  of  the 
four  besides  themselves  was  chosen;  but,  as 
brother  Com-ad's  absence  was  prolonged,  they 
drew  together,  and  conferred  in  angry  whispers. 
"  An  intruder  !" — "  a  foreia-ner  !" — "  a  foundlinar 
of  the  gallows  !" — "  an  Arabian  magician  !"  and 
many  other  rash  words,  dropped  from  them. 

The  good  men  suffered  the  heat  of  argument  to 


BROTHER  BARTHOLOMEW.       '  41 

carry  them  a^vny ;  and,  ere  long,  the  whispered 
murmurs  rose  into  loud  debate,  and  the  debate 
into  a  tempest  of  Avrathful  words ;  and  so  eager 
and  passionate  was  the  discussion,  that  brother 
Conrad  stood  five  minutes  amongst  them  before 
they  perceived  him. 

At  length,  our  lord  the  Abbot  arose,  and  after 
gesticulating  some  little  time  in  vain,  he  succeeded 
in  imposing  silence. 

Still,  however,  there  continued  a  low  grumble 
of  discontent,  as  the  echo  of  thunder  among  the 
hills  Avhen  a  storm  is  gone,  and  we  Avouder 
whether  it  Avill  return. 

"  Brethren,"  said  the  Abbot,  "  behold  him 
Avhom  you  have  chosen  to  succeed  our  venerable 
sub-prior,     IMay  the  choice  be  blest !" 

But  manjf  of  the  brethren  glared  angrily  on 
brother  Conrad,  and  the  storm  was  betrinnins;  to 
rise  again. 

Brother  Conrad  stood  Avith  his  arms  folded  on 
his  breast,  calmly  avv^aiting  a  pause,  with  that 
peculiar  smile  on  his  lips  Avhich  I  have  observed 
before,  until  the  Abbot  Avas  obliged  again  to 
interpose. 

"  Brethren,"  he  said,  "  are  Ave  not  a  sacred 
council  of  priests,  guided  by  the  Spirit  of 
the  Highest  ?  Behold  the  man  of  your 
choice." 

Then  there  ensued  a  sullen  calm,  and  Conrad's 

voice  Avas  heard. 

"  I  came  not  hither,"  he  said,  "  holy  father,  to 
4* 


42  *  THE   DIABT   OF 

rule  monks,  but  to  save  my  soul ;  let  the  holy 
brotherhood  choose  some  fitter  man." 

We  were  accustomed  to  this  formula  of  hu- 
mility  in  the  newly-elected ;  but,  to  our  surprise, 
brother  Conrad  persisted  in  his  refusal,  and  was 
not  by  any  means  to  be  moved  from  it. 

We  accordingly  proceeded  again  to  the  elec- 
tion, and  this  time  the  choice  fell  on  one  of  the 
four  elder  monks. 

With  this  the  assembly  was  obliged  to  be 
content.  The  new  sub-prior  has  been  solemnly 
installed,  and  brother  Conrad  is  honored  in  the 
convent  as  a  model  of  humility. 

On  the  next  morning,  as  brother  Conrad  and  I 
were  journeying  together  to  administer  the  sac- 
rament to  a  sick  man,  I  said,  "  I  rejoice  to  see 
that  your  heart  is  not  set  on  seeking  great  things 
for  yourself." 

He  laughed,  and  replied,  "  I  do  not  understand 
the  monks,  nor  they  me.  If  I  had  desired  the 
greatness  of  this  world,  I  would  not  have  sought 
it  in  an  obscure  monastery  of  the  north.  I  have 
commanded  thousands  of  soldiers,  and  to  me  it  is 
no  point  of  ambition  to  rule  a  few  monks.  I  came 
hither  to  fly  the  world,  not  to  seek  it.  I  came 
hither  to  live  in  quiet,  and  to  save  my  soul." 

Brother  Conrad  is  right,  and  I  love  him  for  his 
honest  words ;  nevertheless,  I  marvel  that  he 
should  speak  so  slightingly  of  our  venerable 
Abbey — chartered  as  it  is  by  the  Emperor,  con- 
taining the  sacred  relics  of  a  supreme  Pontiff— 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  48 

our  blessed  Lady  herself  having  marked  out  the 
site  in  a  vision,  our  founder  being  in  the  calendar, 
and  our  Abbot  ranking  next  the  mitred  Abbots 
and  the  episcopal  throne.  He  can  scarcely  be  in- 
formed of  this,  or  he  would  never  have  used 
words  so  singularly  inappropriate  as  an  "  obscure 
monastery,''''  or  "  a  few  monks,''^  Not  that  I  am 
proud  of  these  privileges:  no!  holy  Benedict 
knows  that  we  are  nothing  but  a  company  of 
poor  and  humble  priests — the  servants  of  the 
servants  of  God. 

January  26. — St.  Poly  carp,  Bisho])  and  Martyr, 

A  post  arrived  to-day,  with  messages  and 
letters  for  our  lord  the  Abbot,  and  a  letter,  sealed 
with  a  noble  escutcheon,  for  brother  Conrad.  The 
messenger  brings  sad  tidings  of  the  apostasy  of 
some  of  Bishop  Otho  of  Bamberg's  new  converts 
in  Pomerania,  and  the  sufferings  of  others.  Hear- 
ing and  reading  of  such  things,  how  it  shames  my 
languid  and  lukewarm  heart!  Thou  art  the 
same  to  us  as  to  them  ;  oh  make  us  the  same  to 
Thee! 

I  took  the  letter  to  brother  Conrad  in  his  cell. 
On  receiving  it  his  hands  trembled,  and  his  face 
turned  livid  in  its  paleness.  When  he  had  read 
it,  he  tore  it  passionately  in  twain,  murmuring, 

"  The  curse  of  God !" then  suddenly  checking 

himself,  he  said  to  me,  "  Leave  me,  brother  Bar- 
tholomew, you  can  do  me  no  good  now."  I  had 
no  choice  but  to  leave  the  cell,  for  so  stern  was 


44  THE    DIARY    OF 

his  countenance,  that  I  deemed  it  folly  to  resist 
his  will. 

January  30. 

For  these  many  days  none  of  ns  have  seen 
brother  Conrad.  He  refuseth  meat,  and  denieth 
entry  to  all. 

Ji^ebruary  1. — St.  Ignatius,  Bishop  and  Martyr. 

To-day,  I  knocked  at  the  door  of  brother  Con- 
rad's  cell ;  receiving  no  answer,  I  at  length  ven- 
tured to  enter  unbidden. 

He  sat  on  his  bed,  with  his  eyes  bent  on  the 
ground.  His  crucifix  lay  on  his  knees  ;  his  face 
was  pale  and  drawn,  as  that  of  a  man  who  had 
passed  through  some  great  agony  of  bodily  pain ; 
but  it  Avas  perfectly  calm,  and  so  was  his  voice 
when  he  addressed  me,  saying — 

"Wherefore  do  you  come  here  ?  you  can  do  me 
no  good." 

But  I  seated  myself  beside  him,  and  said, 
"  Brother,  I  came  to  read  you  some  of  the  words 
of  peace,  fearing  that  you  have  suffered." 

He  did  not  reply,  nor  did  his  features  relax ; 
but  he  bowed  his  head,  and  receiving  no  further 
encouragement,  I  opened  the  Psalter  at  the  32d 
Psalm. 

"  Blessed  is  he  whose  transgression  is  forgiven, 
wliose  sin  is  covered.  Blessed  is  the  man  unto 
whom  the  Lord  imputeth  not  iniquity,  and  in 
whose  spirit  there  is  no  guile." 


BROTHER    BAKTHOLOIMEW.  45 

"  Do  you  come  hither  to  torment  me  before 
the  time  ?"  he  exclaimed,  looking  sternly  and 
abruptly  at  me :  "  in  my  spirit  there  is  guile. 
My  transgression  can  never  be  forgiven,  nor  my 
sin  covered.  The  words  of  peace  are  very 
swords  to  me,  for  I  can  not  repent.  Those  who 
forgive  not  shall  never  be  forgiven,  and  I  can  not 
forgive !" 

I  was  silent,  and  after  a  few  moments  he  pro- 
ceeded : — 

"  Listen,  if  you  will,  to  my  wrong.  I  have 
told  it  to  none  beside.  I  had  broad  lands  in  Ar- 
ragon,  and  castles.  I  loved,  and  believed  myself 
beloved,  and  was  betrothed.  In  an  evil  day,  I 
took  the  Cross ;  she  decked  me  with  her  colors 
when  I  went,  and  I  bore  them  triumphantly 
through  the  thick  of  many  battles.  I  returned. 
Came  with  my  retainers  to  my  father's  castle. 
There  was  feasting  there:  she,  my  bride,  was 
there,  and  my  younger  brother,  a  scribe,  a 
lawyer,  a  man  of  smooth  words  and  a  comely 
face,  Avhom  I  had  cherished  as  my  own  son,  for 
we  were  orphans — she  was  there,  his  wife  !  My 
lands  and  castles  were  my  own,  and  the  king  was 
my  friend ;  but  Avhat  were  they  or  he  to  me '? 
they  could  not  restore  her  to  me,  or  to  the  truth 
and  beauty  of  soul  with  which  I  had  clothed  her. 
I  left  my  country  in  disguise,  and  came  hither  a 
monk,  resigning  my  titles  and  estates  to  them. 
They  took  advantage  of  ray  absence  to  slander 
me  to  my  king ;  he  trusted  me,  and  revealed  their 


46  THE    DIAEY    OF 

treachery.  There  is  the  letter  they  have  sent 
me,  thanking  me  for  ray  generosity,  and  begging 
me  formally  to  transfer  all  ray  hereditary  rights 
— and  she  has  signed  it.  That  is  all  ray  story.  I 
have  done  what  I  can — I  have  sent  them  what 
they  asked  for.  I  will  not  curse  either  of  them 
— but  God,  you  say,  exacts  more.  I  have  tried, 
but  I  can  not  forgive.  You  can  do  me  no  good 
— I  am  lost." 

He  said  these  words  with  the  calm  of  fixed 
conviction,  as  one  to  whom  the  terrible  thought 
was  no  strange  or  doubtful  thing,  but  ascertained 
and  familiar.  But  I  could  not  withhold  my  tears. 

When  I  could  speak  again  composedly,  I  took 
the  crucifix  from  his  knees,  and  said,  "  Brother, 
whose  image  is  this  ?" 

"  I  know  what  you  would  say,"  he  answered ; 
"  but  it  is  in  vain.  He  is  God.  His  heart  was 
tender  and  compassionate  ;  mine  is  hard — it  lias 
been  frozen  hard  in  its  own  tears.  He  forgave, 
but  I  hate.  I  sin  even  as  I  speak,  and  can  not 
repent.  I  do  not  murmur  against  God.  He  is 
just.     I  am  lost — and  I  deserve  it !" 

There  was  such  intense  and  fixed  anguish  in 
the  slow  calmness  with  which  he  uttered  these 
words,  that  I  felt  any  words  of  mine  were  power- 
less ;  and  kneeling  down,  I  called,  at  first  in  si- 
lence, and  then  aloud,  on  Him  who  delighteth  in 
mercy. 

What  I  said,  I  do  not  exactly  remember ;  I  re- 
member only  that  I  poured  out  my  whole  heart 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  47 

before  God,  calling  on  Him  who  is  so  near  to  the 
broken-hearted  to  have  pity  on  my  brother— to 
heal  the  heart  men  had  broken,  and  to  bind  up 
its  wounds.  I  knew  and  felt  that  the  Lord  was 
near  us — as  near  as  Avhen  the  sick  and  fearful 
touched  the  hem  of  His  garment,  and  were 
healed,  and  the  guilty  outcast  wept  at  His  feet, 
and  was  forgiven — and  as  gracious.  I  Avas  sure 
that  He  heard,  and  sure  that  He  would  keep  His 
promise,  and  give  what  we  asked.  Before  I  rose, 
Conrad  had  sunk  on  his  knees  beside  me,  and 
when  I  rose,  he  still  remained  kneeling. 

I  waited  some  time  :  then  placing  the  crucifix 
in  his  hands,  I  said,  "  It  was  for  no  light  sin  that 
the  Son  of  God  left  His  glory,  and  became  obe- 
dient to  a  death  such  as  this :  nor  did  He  suiFer 
such  things  in  vain.  My  brother,  you  are  lost ; 
but  the  Lord  Jesus  came  to  seek  the  lost.  You 
have  mistaken  the  object  of  His  coming  alto- 
gether. He  came  not  to  judge,  but  to  save. 
Look  on  Him  your  sins  have  pierced,  and  live." 

There  was  no  tear  in  his  eyes — no  sign  of  emo- 
tion on  his  face  ;  but  as  I  left  the  cell,  he  grasped 
my  hand,  and  said,  in  a  scarcely  audible  voice — 

"  There  is  hope." 

February  4. 

This  evening,  brother  Conrad  rejoined  us  at 
the  reading  of  the  Scriptures.  We  are  reading 
through  the  Book  of  the  prophet  Isaiah.  The 
chapters  read  to-day  were  from  lii.  to  Ivi. 


48  THE   DIARY   OP 

"  Surely  he  hath  borne  our  griefs,  and  carried 
our  sorrows :  yet  we  did  esteem  him  stricken, 
smitten  of  God,  and  afflicted. 

"  But  he  was  AA^ounded  for  our  transgressions, 
he  was  bruised  for  our  iniquities :  the  chastise- 
ment of  our  peace  Avas  upon  him ;  and  with  his 
stripes  Ave  are  healed. 

"  All  AA'e,  like  sheep,  haA'e  gone  astray ;  Ave 
have  turned  every  one  to  his  own  Avay ;  and  the 
Lord  hath  laid  on  him  the  iniquity  of  us  all." 

And  again — 

"  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  tho 
Avaters,  and  he  that  hath  no  money:  come  ye, 
buy  and  eat ;  yea,  come,  buy  Avine  and  milk  with- 
out money,  and  without  price." 

Methought  the  living  Avords  never  brought  to 
my  heart  such  a  warm  feeling  of  the  unmerited 
and  unutterable  love  of  God  before ;  and  as  the 
lantern-bearer  went  his  rounds,  casting  the  light 
on  one  after  another,  I  saw  that  brother  Conrad's 
face  was  Avet  with  tears,  and  he  did  not  try  to 
hide  them — a  strange  thing  for  so  proud  a  man, 

February  12. — SL  JEulalla,    Virgin  and  Ilartyr. 

I  never  saw  a  man  so  changed  as  brother  Con- 
rad. His  heart  seems  opened ;  it  is  as  if  a  hand 
which  kneAV  the  secret  had  touched  some  hidden 
spring,  and  the  closed  vessel  had  sprung  open  in 
an  instant.  Instead  of  his  soul  being  a  dark 
thing  folded  up  in  its  own  gloom,  it  seems  an 
open  house  full  of  peace  and  light,  and  warming 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  49 

all  who  come  near  him.  The  old  smile  of  con- 
temi3tuous  pity  has  given  way  to  one  of  kindly 
interest.  In  place  of  the  dead  mechanical  sub- 
mission with  Avhich  he  used  to  obey  the  com- 
mauds  of  the  superiors,  it  seems  now  his  joy  and 
his  "meat"  to  minister  to  all  as  the  servant  of 
Him  who  came  to  minister. 

This  evening,  as  we  returned  from  a  visitation 
in  the  forest,  we  passed  Nannerl's  cottage ;  the 
children  (she  has  three  now)  were  standing  at 
the  door  waiting  to  catch  the  first  glimpse  of 
their  father  as  he  returned  from  his  day's  work 
at  the  Abbey.  When  he  came  in  sight,  they  all 
ran  out  to  meet  him.  The  two  eldest  clung  to 
his  coat,  the  youngest  tottered  after  them  until 
he  caught  her  in  his  arms  and  covered  her  with 
kisses. 

"  What  is  it,"  said  Conrad,  when  we  had 
passed,  "  to  be  able  to  call  God  Father ! " 

"  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  and  heaven  liomeP 

God  gives  strength  by  giving  peace. 

To  Conrad  as  to  St.  Paul  the  Son  of  God  has 
been  revealed ;  and  the  Spirit  of  God  fills  every 
corner  of  his  ruined  and  desolate  heart  with  the 
music  of  "  Abba,  Father." 

Fehi^arxj  14. 

The  poor  people  are  beginning  everywhere  to 
sufier  from  the  scarcity  of  the  late  harvest,  added 
to  the  inclemency  of  the  season.  They  throng 
our  gates,  imploring  charity  for  the  love  of  Christ. 


50  THE   DIARY   OP 

Our  lord  the  Abbot  has  emptied  the  Abbey 
granaries  of  all  the  superfluous  corn ;  and  this 
week  we  have  sent  brother  Theodore  to  Bam- 
berg, with  a  trusty  escort,  to  sell  some  of  our 
most  richly  illuminated  manuscripts,  Avith  the 
gems  wherewith  they  were  studded.  Brother 
Theodore  almost  wept  to  see  his  beloved  manu- 
scripts  thus  stripped ;  and  scarce  could  all  I  said 
about  the  living  epistles  being  even  more  pre- 
cious than  the  written  ones,  assuage  his  grief. 
"  The  collections  and  labors  of  a  century,"  he 
says,  "  scattered  in  a  week,  and  betrayed  per- 
chance into  the  hands  of  the  ignorant  and  profane, 
or  of  some  rival  order ! " 

Also  we  have  sold  some  of  the  church  plate 
and  decorations,  and  sundry  of  the  more  costly 
vestments,  to  buy  corn  withal.  Some  murmur 
at  this  as  a  desecration  of  holy  things,  but  brother 
Conrad  saith,  "  It  is  but  laying  them  up  in  a 
safe  place,  until  we  Avant  them,  with  a  sure 
Keeper." 

He  himself  hath  been  very  busy  of  late  copying 
manuscripts  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  a  new  occu- 
pation for  him  until  within  the  last  few  months, 
he  beino:  more  used  to  handle  the  sword  than  the 
pen.  At  the  first,  his  letters  were  very  uncouth 
and  unchristian-like,  but  he  laughed  at  his  mis- 
takes until  he  conquered  them,  and  now  scarcely 
can  brother  Theodore  write  more  rapidly  or  in 
more  beautiful  and  legible  characters.  He  labor- 
eth  at  it  day  and  night,  designing  to  sell  these 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  51 

copies  for  the  famishing  peasants.  Also  the 
copying  of  the  holy  words  nourisheth  his  own 
soul :  so  that,  in  watering,  "  he  is  watered  also 
himself." 

It  is  piteous  to  see  the  poor  starving  people 
thronging  the  Abbey  courts :  mothers  holding 
up  their  crying  children,  themselves  complaining 
not — old  men  tottering  from  feebleness,  and 
stout  youths  from  famine.  We  are  expecting 
supplies  from  Bamberg. 

March. 

Brother  Conrad  seems  daily  to  gi'ow  in  grace 
and  in  the  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures.  To-day 
he  said  to  me,  after  matins — 

"Once,  looking  on  the  height  from  which  I 
had  descended,  I  tliought  myself  a  man  of  mar- 
velous humility,  until  looking  up  I  saw  how  low 
my  Saviour  had  to  stoop  to  reach  me.  Now  I 
can  never  wonder  enough  at  my  pride  and  His 
grace.  Some,"  he  added,  "  paint  humility  with 
downcast  eyes,  looking  as  if  she  thought  every 
one  was  saying,  '  See  how  humble  slie  is  \ '  but 
true  humility  looks  freely  up  to  heaven,  knowing 
xoliat  she  is,  and  xvhere;  and  then  forgetting  her- 
self in  thinking  what  God  is." 

He  is  like  one  moving  softly  in  the  calm  of  a 
royal  presence.  Yet  I  sometimes  tremble  at  his 
questions  about  our  Holy  Mother  Church  and 
her  doctrines.  His  mind  is  direct  and  simple  as 
a  child's  J  and  having  caught  the  thread  of  a 


52  THE   DIARY   OF 

truth,  he  follows  it  on  through  the  Scripture, 
without  ever  heeding  what  nets  he  may  tread 
through,  or  what  sacred  enclosures  he  may  tram- 
ple down  in  his  path.  I  fear  whither  this  may 
lead  him. 

This  evening  we  had  been  sitting  in  the  dusk, 
discoui-sing  of  the  legends  of  the  saints,  and  their 
appearing  amongst  us — of  the  warrior  St.  James 
— of  him  who  was  pierced  through  with  many 
arrows,  yet  not  slain — of  the  virgin  Margaret, 
daisy  and  pearl  of  Paradise — of  the  lamb-like 
Agnes,  her  woes  and  her  triumphs — and  of  many 
others,  knights  and  ladies  of  the  court  of  heaven. 

Afterwards,  when  we  were  alone,  he  asked 
me — 

"  Why  pray  to  the  saints  when  we  may  speak 
directly  to  God  ?  " 

I  was  somewhat  startled  at  the  abruptness  of 
the  question,  but  I  said— 

"In  our  monastery  wo  may  all  apply  directly 
to  our  lord  the  Abbot,  yet  many  choose  rather 
to  prefer  any  suit  through  me,  knowing  that  the 
Abbot  has  a  favor  unto  me." 

"  That  may  be,"  he  replied;  "but  the  Abbot 
is  not  our  father,  nor  has  he  expressly  commanded 
us  to  make  known  all  our  requests  unto  him." 

The  saints,  or  He  who  sanctifieth  them,  pre- 
serve us  from  all  rash  speculations  !  nevertheless, 
the  growtli  and  fervor  of  brother  Conrad  often 
shame  my  cold  and  slothful  heart.  I  seem  not 
to  grow,  and  sometimes,  in  looking  back  to  the 


BROTHER    BARTHOLOMEW.  53 

early  clays  of  my  Christian  life,  I  am  ready  to 
cry,  "Where  is  the  blessedness  I  spake  of  then?" 
It  seems  to  have  faded  away  like  a  gleam  at  sun- 
rise on  a  gray  and  rainy  day.  Can  it  then  be 
with  us  as  with  the  Ciiurch?  Are  the  early 
days  necessarily  those  of  freshest  love  and  purest 
zeal  ? 

This  would  seem  as  if  eternal  life  were  doomed, 
like  corruptible  things,  to  decreptitude  and  de- 
cay. But  no,  it  is  not  so.  St.  Paul  speaks  of 
growth — Conrad  grows  ;  the  fault  is  in  me — my 
heart  is  so  dead,  my  hope  at  times  so  feeble,  and 
my  prayers  so  mechanical :  can  I  have  mistaken 
my  vocation  ? 

"  Rex  tremendse  Majestatis, 
Qui  salvaudos  salvas  gratis. 
Salva  me  Fons  pictatis. 

"  Recordare  Jesu  pie 
Quod  sum  causa  tuce  vise, 
No  me  perdas  ilia  die. 

"  Qucereus  mo  sedisti  lassus, 
Rederaisti,  crucem  passus ; 
Tantus  labor  non  sit  cassus." 

April  13. — St.  Justin  the  Martyr. 

Our  supplies  of  corn  are  arrived,  and  the  vil- 
lagers come  daily  to  the  Abbey  gates  for  their 
portion.  It  is  blessed  thus  to  be  stewards  of 
God's  storehouses, ,  to  give  •  His  people  meat 
in  due  season,  though  it  be  only  meat  for  the 
body. 

5* 


54  THE    DIARY    OP 

April  23. — St.  George  the  Martyr. 

Yesterday  a  young  Frenchman  visited  us  from 
the  University  of  Paris.  We  gave  him  a  night's 
lodging,  and  he  repaid  us  by  proving  various 
theological  and  other  theses. 

I  marveled  at  the  readiness  and  skill  Avith 
which  he  tossed  the  ball  of  argument,  and  caught 
it  again  more  deftly  than  the  expertest  jongleur  ; 
but  brother  Conrad  sat  silent  and  displeased — he 
affecteth  not  such  juggler's  play  with  truths. 

Many  curious  questions  were,  however,  started 
by  the  learned  student — as,  "  Whether  angels 
could  strictly  be  said  to  fly,  seeing  spirits  have 
no  place,  whereas  flying  is  motion,  and  motion 
change  of  place." 

"  Why  the  nose  was  placed  above,  instead  of 
below  the  mouth." 

"  What  God  would  have  done  if  Adam  had 
not  listened  to  the  seductions  of  our  mother  Eve, 
and  eaten  of  the  forbidden  fruit."  * 

Whilst  he  was  subtilely  debating  this  last 
point,  brother  Conrad  suddenly  rose,  and  con- 
fronting the  stranger,  said — 

"  When  a  man  is  shipwrecked,  it  is  no  time  to 
be  discussing  the  conduct  of  the  helmsman,  or 
how  the  rope  was  manufactured  which  is  thrown 
out  to  save  him." 

The  student  was  silenced  for  a  moment,  then 
he  said — 

*  See  Neander's  "  St.  Bernard." 


BROTHER     BARTHOLOMEW.  55 

"That,  reverend  sir,  may  admit  of  argument; 
permit  me  to  state  the  matter  syllogistically." 

"  I  am  no  scholar,"  rejoined  Conrad,  "  but  this 
I  know :  Avheu  our  Lord  shall  come  again,  there 
is  one  question  whicli  will  place  us  among  the 
saved  or  the  lost — 'Do  you  know  me  as  the 
Redeemer  of  your  soul  ?'  And  if  Ave  can  say  Yes, 
all  the  Avisdom  of  angels  Avill  be  opened  to  us 
afterwards  in  His  presence." 

The  Frenchman  Avas  proceeding  to  (Rebate  the 
point,  Avhen  our  brother  laid  his  hand  gently  on 
his  arm,  and  said — 

"  Young  man,  I  think  you  are  a  disciple  of 
Peter  Abelard  ;  he  is  a  great  man,  but  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  is  infinitely  greater.  Read  His 
Word ;  follow  Him ;  He  can  save  you — Abelard 
can  not." 

The  student  colored. 

"  Master  Peter  has  been  foully  slandered,"  he 
exclaimed ;  "  but  all  admit  his  Avisdom  noAV.  Who 
disputes  his  ortliodoxy  here  ?" 

None  of  the  brotherhood  oflered  to  enter  the 
lists  Avith  so  fierce  and  skilled  a  combatant,  but 
Conrad  said  quietly — 

"  I  slander  none.  I  kucAV  Abelard  at  Clngni ; 
he  was  a  man  of  mighty  intellectual  poAver,  and 
has,  I  troAV,  passed  through  hard  conflicts.  To 
his  OAvn  Master  he  standeth  or  falleth  :  but  I 
believe  his  scholars  trifle  Avitli  truth  as  he  Avould 
never  have  dared.  There  is  nothing  so  far  from 
the  childlike  heart  to  which  God  reveals  His 


56  THE   DIARY    OF 

secrets,  as  the  childish  vanity  of  those  who  play 
with  things  before  which  the  angels  veil  their 
faces.  Beware,  as  you  value  your  salvation,  that 
whilst  you  are  making  confects  and  dainty  dishes 
with  the  Bread  of  Life,  your  own  soul  do  not 
stai've." 

"  A  worthy  man,"  whispered  the  student  to 
brother  Lupacius,  when  Conrad  had  left,  "  but 
lamentably  behind  the  age." 

"  You  yere  hard  on  the  stranger,"  I  said  to 
brother  Conrad  in  the  evening. 

"Was  I?"  he  said.  "  It  makes  me  shudder  to 
hear  sentenced  malefactors,  such  as  we  are,  play- 
ing with  the  message  of  pardon  and  deliverance 
the  Sovereign  sends  them  at  the  cost  of  such 
anguish  to  the  Deliverer.  That  man  can  never 
utter  truth  who  has  never  himself  felt  it  im- 
latterable." 

June. 

It  is  long  since  I  have  handled  the  pen,  having 
been  laid  on  ray  bed  by  severe  sickness.  Even 
now  my  hand  trembleth,  yet  must  I  i-ecord  my 
thanks  to  Him  who  has  raised  me  from  the  gates 
of  the  grave. 

"  The  living,  the  living,  he  shall  praise  thee, 
and  declare  thy  truth."  The  famine  was  followed 
by  a  grievous  plague.  Want  and  hunger,  and 
irregular  feeding,  have  made  fearful  ravages 
amongst  the  peasantry.  I,  myself,  with  brother 
Conrad,  closed  the  eyes  of  many  who  had  been 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  57 

abandoned  of  their  kindred  ;  not  without  hope  for 
some,  that  their  eyes  would  open  one  day  to 
welcome  the  morning  of  the  resurrection. 

Nannerl's  youngest  child  died.  How  she 
watched  and  tended  it,  never  heeding  herself! 

Brother  Conrad  sat  with  me  day  and  night 
during  my  illness  ;  and  when  I  began  to  recover, 
he  would  read  to  me  for  houi-s  together  in  the 
Sacred  Scriptures.  We  seemed  never  to  Aveary 
of  the  blessed  words.  To  me  they  ^  were  as 
refreshing  draughts. 

When  I  left  my  room  for  the  first  time,  at  the 
door  I  met  Otho  the  robber.  He  seized  my  hands 
and  pressed  them  to  his  lips.  They  say  he  had 
watched  there  morning,  noon,  and  night,  waiting 
to  do  any  little  service,  and  was  not  to  be 
tempted  from  his  post  by  entreaties  or  remon- 
strances. 

How  could  I  have  dreamed  that  Thou,  O  Lord, 
wouldst  have  called  forth  such  streams  for  me 
from  the  rock ! 

They  led  me  into  the  convent  garden.  I  sat 
for  an  hour  or  two  thei-e  in  the  sunshine.  How 
the  birds  sang  that  day ! 

July  1. 

Brother  Conrad  has  taken  my  place  in  the 
hospital— I  his,  by  the  bedside.  He  is  wondrous 
grateful  and  patient. 

At  times,  with  the  fierceness  of  the  fever,  his 
mind   wanders,   and   then  he    seems  to  dream 


58  THE    DIARY    OF 

himself  engaged  in  mortal  combat,  either  with 
the  infidels  or  other  fiercer  foes,  even  the  spirits 
which  believe  and  hate  ;  yet  he  seems  scarcely 
ever  to  lose  sight  of  Him  who  overcame  by  dying ; 
at  some  moments  appearing  to  cling  to  Him  as  a 
drowning  man  to  a  plank. 

July  4. 

To-day,  as  I  stood  in  the  sick-room,  just  as  the 
stars  were  going  out  in  the  gray  of  the  morning, 
he  spoke  to  me  very  feebly ;  1  went  to  his  bed- 
side. 

"I  have  been  lying  awake  long,"  he  said ;  "I 
have  had  a  fearful  conflict.  I  sank  through  an 
abyss— an  abyss  of  darkness.  My  sins  Aveighed 
me  down  and  down  through  the  bottomless 
depths.  Beneath  me  was  nothing :  everything  I 
clung  to  melted  away  and  sank  down  with  me — 
the  earth,  the  stars,  all  men,  and  all  they  have 
made.  Below  the  abyss  of  darkness  was  an  abyss 
of  fire ;  slow  noiseless  flames  burned  on  and 
languished  not ;  the  smoke  of  their  torment  Avent 
up  for  ever  and  ever.  I  could  not  speak ;  there 
was  no  sound  in  the  dead  air,  and  still  everything 
I  grasped  slipped  from  my  touch,  and  I  and  they 
fell  on  together,  noiselessly.  I  despaired  utterly, 
yet,  from  the  dejiths  of  my  sinking  heart,  I 
grasped  Jesus." 

"  Then  my  hands  clasped  something  which  did 
not  give  way.  It  was  the  root  of  the  tree  on 
which  He  bore  our  sins.    It  went  below  the 


BROTHER    BARTHOLOMEW.  59 

depths  of  the  fire,  and  was  not  consumed ;  in  the 
universal  dissolution  it  stood  firm,  for  it  had 
foundations.  It  rested  on  God,  and  I  rested  on 
it,  and  as  I  clung  to  it,  one  drop  of  the  precious 
blood  fell  on  me — the  blood  of  the  Son  of  God  ! 
The  fever  was  cooled — the  fire  was  quenched — in 
the  place  of  hell  stood  the  open  sepulchre,  and  on 
it  sat  angels  in  Avhite  ;  in  the  place  of  the  abyss 
of  darkness,  above  me  was  an  abyss  of  impene- 
trable light.  The  angels  floated  away  into  the 
heavens,  singing,  '  He  is  not  here ;  he  is  risen.'  I 
looked  after  them,  and  when  they  were  lost  in 
the  light,  other  voices  joined  them ;  and  in  the 
distance  they  sounded  low  and  sweet  as  a  voice 
from  the  depths  of  my  own  soul ;  and  they 
sang — 

" '  There  is  joy  in  heaven ;'  and,  '  He  seeth  of 
the  travail  of  his  soul,  and  is  satified.' 

"  So,  with  their  songs  in  ray  ears,  and  my  head 
on  the' foot  of  the  cross — below  me  the  empty 
tomb — I  fell  asleep.  Now,  I  have  been  lying  awake 
long,  wrapped  in  a  sweet  calm.  It  was  a  dream, 
brother  Bartholomew ;  but  hell,  and  the  cross, 
and  the  resurrection,  are  no  dreams ;  I  am  awake, 
but  the  night  is  around  me  no  more ;  all  is  day — 
eternal,  unutterably  blessed  day !" 

I  knelt  beside  my  brother's  bed,  and  gave 
thanks  in  silence.  Then  I  gave  him  some  fresh 
fruit ;  and,  exhausted  by  the  eflibrt  he  had  made, 
he  slept  again,  and  has  scarce  spoken  since  for 
this  day. 


60  THE    DIARY    OF 

July  8. 

This  morning,  as  I  watched  beside  him,  he 
said,  as  if  to  himself — 

"  Yes ;  it  is  true !  He  has  gone  down  to  the 
depths  for  us,  and  is  set  on  the  lieights  for  us. 
He  that  believeth  hath  everlasting  Life  !  I  be- 
lieve ;  therefore  I  live — live  for  ever  a  life  of  im- 
speakable,  undefiled,  unfading  joy.  '  They  shall 
never  perish.'  'He  that  believeth  not  is  con- 
demned already.'  There  is,  then,  no  middle  state 
between  imperishable  life  and  condemnation. 
Here  we  may  pass .  from  death  unto  life — there, 
there  is  a  great  gulf  fixed  which  can  not  be 
crossed  over.  The  fire  of  God's  just  wrath 
twice  seen — in  the  cross^  forsaking  His  OAvn  Son 
— and  in  hell.  His  blood  must  be  upon  us  either 
to  cleanse  or  to  condemn.  Brother,"  he  said, 
turning  to  me,  "  was  the  work  of  expiation 
finished  on  the  cross  ?" 

"  Unquestionably,"  I  replied ;  "  having  by 
Himself  purged  our  sins.  He  is  seated  as  one 
resting  after  a  completed  work,  at  the  right  hand 
of  God." 

"  Then,"  he  said,  deliberately  fixing  his  pene- 
trating eyes  on  me,  "  there  can  be  no  purgatory. 
The  cross  is  the  only  purgatory  !  For  those  who 
believe  in  it,  no  second  purgatory  is  needed  :  for 
those  who  reject  it,  no  second  is  possible — there 
remaineth  no  further  sacrifice  for  sins." 

I  feared  to  engage  him  in  debate  just  then, 
dreading  recurrence  of  fever,  but  I  conjured  him 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  61 

to  leave  such  dangerous  speculations  until  his 
soundness  of  mind  and  body  is  restored. 

He  smiled,  but  said  no  more,  desiring  me  to 
read  to  him  from  the  10th  chapter  of  St.  John. 
When  I  had  closed  the  book,  he  said — 

"  He  is  the  Door  as  well  as  the  Shepherd  of 
the  fold :  the  channel,  as  Avell  as  the  source  of 
life.  Then,  it  is  the  Lord  who  unites  us  to  the 
Church,  not  the  Church  to  the  Lord.  Where  He 
is,  the  Church  is ;  where  He  is  not,  there  is 
nothino-  but  death." 

I  said,  "The  Church  is  the  steward  of  the 
manifold  grace  of  God." 

"  Yes !"  he  replied ;  "  and  it  is  required  of 
stewards  that  they  be  found  faithful.  If,  there- 
fore, the  Church,  priests,  sacraments,  saints,  seek 
to  come  between  us  and  our  God,  they  at  once 
hide  the  light  and  cease  to  shine.  In  eclipsing 
they  are  darkened." 

,        July  9. 

To-morrow  he  is  to  leave  the  hospital  for  the 
first  time. 

July  11. 

Brother  Canrad's  first  attendance  at  the  ofier- 
ing  of  the  adorable  sacrifice  since  his  illness. 

It  was  a  high  festival,  being  the  day  of  the 
commemoration  of  the  lioly  Benedict. 

The  silver  and  golden  vessels  of  the  altar  were 
all  uncovered ;  the  church  glittered  and  glowed 
6 


62  THE    DIARY    OF 

with  ricli  decorations  and  stained  light.  The 
choristers  sang  with  voices  like  nightingales  or 
angels. 

But  in  the  afternoon,  Conrad  said — 

"  How  much  of  what  we  call  church-music 
must  be  mere  noise  to  heavenly  beings! — the 
melody  in  the  heart  failing." 

Again  he  thinks  that  the  sacrifice  of  the  cross 
being  complete,  it  is  mockery  to  profess  to  re- 
peat it;  and  being  divine,  none  but  God  can 
ofiier  it. 

Also,  he  deduces  from  the  writings  of  St.  Peter 
and  St.  Paul,  that  there  are  only  two  priesthoods 
in  the  Christian  Church — the  unchangeable  priest- 
hood of  Him  who  hath  entered  into  the  holy 
jDlace  by  His  own  blood,  there  to  make  interces- 
sion for  us ;  and  the  priesthood  of  the  whole  liv- 
ing Church  by  virtue  of  her  union  Avith  Him,  set 
apart  to  offer  spiritual  sacrifices. 

July  20. 

Brother  Conrad  seems  to  become  confirmed  in 
his  new  convictions.  He  hatli  a  perilous  way 
of  tracing  things  out  to  their  consequences,  which 
I  fear  may  lead  him  to  consequences  I  shudder  to 
think  of. 

I  never  have  felt  tempted  to  this. 

I  also  believe  in  the  perfect  pardon  obtained 
by  the  perfect  atonement ;  but,  nevertheless,  I 
thankfully  receive  the  absolution  of  the  ambas- 
sadors of  heaven. 


BROTHER    BARTHOLOMEW.  63 

I  also  believe  in  the  sufficiency  of  the  one  Me- 
diator ;  but,  nevertheless,  I  am  glad  to  avail  my- 
self of  the  intercession  of  the  saints. 

I  also  believe  in  the  high  priesthood  of  the  Son 
of  God ;  yet  I  dare  not  question  the  existence  of 
a  Levitical  order  in  the  Church. 

I  conjure  him  not  to  speak  openly  of  these 
things.  He  promises  to  do  nothing  rashly,  but, 
saith  he,  "  I  dare  not  teach  the  smallest  lie,  since 
the  truth  is  my  life." 

Also  he  saith,  "  Every  truth  taught  me  is  a 
talent  intrusted  me,  therewith  to  trade  for  the 
glory  of  my  Lord.     In  hiding,  I  waste  them." 

He  says  he  believes  some  may  cling  so  close  to 
Christ,  that  all  their  ei'rors  lie  dead  and  nugatory 
outside ;  but,  nevertheless,  lie  asserts  that  all 
W'hich  is  not  truth  is  Ihlsehood,  and  all  talsehood 
is  pernicious — tending  to  lull  the  slumbering,  and 
to  harass  the  earnest ;  that  all  which  is  not  armor 
is  a  weight  burdening  us  and  hindering  our  course ; 
that  if  Jesus  himself  neutralizes  the  poison  for  us^ 
it  is  still  poison  when  we  present  it  to  others. 

August  10. — St.  Laurence. 
Otho  the  robber  is  dead,  having  caught  the 
fever  from  us. 

"  Thou  receivest  sinners." 

August  20. 
Woe  is  me !  to  what  is  my  brother  fallen ! 
A  few  weeks   since  he  Avent  to  visit  a  sick 
man.     The  man  had  led  a  very  abandoned  life ; 


64  THE    DIARY    OF 

his  heart  seemed  closed  to  all  brother  Conrad's 
appeals;  but  as  he  was  leaving,  the  dying  man 
called  out  to  him,  "Father,  you  are  a  holy  man; 
,  when  you  come  to  see  me  again,  bring  me  the 
last  sacraments  of  the  Church,  and  I  will  give 
you  all  the  monej'^  I  have  left,  to  offer  up  masses 
for  my  soul." 

Conrad  Avas  shocked  at  the  request,  and  going 
back  to  the  bed,  he  said — 

"  The  pardons  of  God  are  free.  They  are  to  be 
liad  by  those  who  want  them  for  asking,  but  not 
for  gold." 

And  he  refused  to  receive  any  money  to 
pray  his  soul  out  of  purgatory,  even  telling  him 
that  God  offered  us  no  choice  besides  heaven 
and  hell,  conjuring  him  with  tears  to  accept  the 
pardon  so  dearly  bought  and  so  freely  given. 

But  the  man  persisted,  asking,  with  oaths, 
what  priests  were  for,  if  not  to  save  the  souls  of 
their  flocks. 

And  so,  unshriven  and  unanointed,  he  died. 

At  his  death,  the  relations  came  to  the  Abbey 
and  complained  to  our  lord  the  Abbot  of  Conrad's 
conduct. 

At  first  the  Abbot,  being  a  man  of  an  easy 
temper  (although  fiery  withal),  would  not  believe 
the  report ;  but  on  our  brother  being  called  and 
questioned,  he  deliberately  and  unhesitatingly 
confirmed  the  conversation  in  every  point. 

They  threatened,  exhorted,  and  disputed  with 
liim — but  in  vain. 


BKOTHEK   BARTHOLOMEW.  65 

The  discussion  seemed  only  to  confirm  brother 
Conrad,  whilst  it  made  our  Lord  the  Abbot  very 
angry,  so  that  at  last  he  swore,  if  Conrad  did 
not  abjure  his  errors  within  three  days,  he  would 
excommunicate  him,  and  hand  him  over  to  the 
secular  arm. 

He  made  no  reply,  and  was  sentenced  to  be 
imprisoned  in  his  cell. 

Tlie  three  days  elapsed  swiftly. 

At  length,  on  the  eve  of  the  appointed  day,  I 
obtained  leave  to  repair  to  his  cell,  and  make  one 
more  efibrt  to  save  hiiii.  But  verily,  when  I 
entered  therein  and  saw  with  what  marvelous 
sweetness  and  composure  he  sat  awaiting  the 
morrow,  all  the  skillful  exhortations  I  had  framed 
wellnigh  died  away  on  my  lips.  Yet  I  believe  I 
spoke  to  him  faithfully  of  the  Holy  Mother 
Church,  reminding  him  that  she  who  had  born 
and  nourished  countless  hosts  of  saints  and  mar- 
tyrs was  worthy  of  all  reverence,  and  conjuring 
him  not  to  suffer  himself  to  be  cut  off  from  her 
communion ;  but  he  said  with  a  smile — 

"  My  brother,  it  is  God,  and  not  the  Church, 
who  hath  begotten  and  nourished  the  saints  and 
martyrs  ;  '  begotten  by  the  resurrection  of  Jesus 
Christ  from  the  dead,'  and  '  nourished  and  cher- 
ished by  the  Lord  Himself.'  This  outward 
framework  of  ordinances  and  institutions  is  not 
the  Churcli.  It  has  cost  me  much  to  learn  it ; 
but  truth  is  worth  evei*ything." 

Tlien  I  entreated  him  to  ren^ember  the  holy 
■6* 


66  THE   DIARY    OF 

words  with  which  she  had  sustained  him,  and 
her  divine  offices,  gently  leading  him  from  infan- 
cy to  manhood.  Where  martyrs  died  he  might 
surely  be  saved ;  in  leaving  her,  what  security 
could  he  have  ?  "  This,"  he  replied :  "  'my  sheep 
know  my  voice,  and  they  follow  me,  and  none 
shall  pluck  them  from  my  hand.'  His  voice  is 
in  the  Bible ;  anything  which  seeks  to  silence 
that,  can  not  be  from  Him.  The  Church  can 
neither  give  life  nor  take  it." 

I  forebore  to  argue  further,  seeing  that  it  was 
vain,  but  we  knelt  once  more  together  and 
prayed. 

Can  the  devil  give  such  heavenly  composure? 
Can  any  but  God  inspire  such  prayers  ?  Can  he 
be  right  ? 

Holy  Benedict,  and  Bartholomew,  and  Mary, 
mother  of  God,  forgive  me,  and  pray  for  us 
both ! 

I  can  not  hate  the  heretic,  but  a  heretic  myself 
I  will  never  be. 


It  was  midnight ;  the  altar  lamps  were  lighted, 
the"  solemn  service  commenced  ;  the  incense,  the 
lights,  the  awful  music — they  float  before  me 
Jike  a  dream — only,  in  the  midst,  one  form  stands 
out  real,  as  if  I  could  toucli  it  now — one  brought 
there  to  be  degraded  and  cursed,  and  yet  with  a 
countenance  as  calm  and  radiant  as  that  of  the 
martyr  Stephen,  Avhen,  looking  up,  he  saw  the 


BROTHER    BARTHOLOMEW.  67 

glory  of  God,  and  Jesus  at  the  right  hand  of 
God. 

The  service  ceased ;  the  lights  were  extin- 
guished one  by  one,  and  in  the  silence  of  the 
awe-stricken  assembly,  and  through  the  arches 
of  the  lofty  roof,  echoed  only  from  time  to  time 
the  terrific  words,  "  Anathema !  anathema !  ana- 
thema !  " 

And  the  excommunicated  heretic  was  led  back 
to  his  cell. 

My  brother — my  brother  Conrad — thou  Avho 
wast  my  companion,  mine  equal,  and  mine  own 
familiar  friend  ;  we  took  sweet  counsel  together, 
and  walked  in  the  house  of  God  as  friends ! 

What  if,  Avhilst  they  were  peahng  anathemas, 
the  Lord  Jesus  was  whispering,  "Come,  thou 
blessed  of  my  Father !  "     What  if 

[Here  occur  an  erasure  and  a  blank  in  the 
manuscript.] 

August  15. 

Brother  Conrad's  cell  was  this  morning  found 
empty. 

We  have  searched  for  him  everywhere,  but  in 
vain  ;  we  can  discover  no  traces  of  him. 

In  my  heart  I  can  not  help  half  rejoicing ;  and 
our  lord  the  Abbot  is,  I  trow,  not  sorry ;  yet  to 
have  lost  thee,  my  brother,  my  son ! 


68  THE   DIAEY   OF 

Fragments  of  Letters  found  amongst  the  Secret 
Papers  of  the  Abbey  of  3Iarienthal,  at  its  de- 
struction, during  the  Thirty  Years'*  War.  [Sup- 
posed never  to  have  reached  their  destinatio7i.^ 

FEAGMEXT    OF    LETTER   THE    FIEST. 

In  the  name  of  Him  who  has  called  us  from 
idols  to  serve  Him,  the  living  and  ti'ue  God: — and 
to  wait  for  His  Son  from  heaven — grace  and 
peace ! 

I,  Conrad,  write  these  words  imto  thee,  Bai"- 
tholomew,  my  friend,  and  my  brother,  knowing 
that  thou  wilt  often  have  wondered  at  my  sudden 
disappearing — to  tell  thee  of  my  safety,  and  of 
the  love  and  gratitude  with  which  I  constantly 
remember  thee  ;  giving  thanks  for  thee  in  all  ray 
prayers. 

I  send  this  packet  to  the  house  of  our  friend 
Magdalis,  there  to  be  lefl  for  thee  by  a  trusty 
liand.  If  thou  desircst  to  hold  further  communi- 
cation Avith  me,  outcast  as  I  am,  the  same  hand 
will  be  ready  to  receive  thy  missive;  if  not,  these 
lines  can  not  endanger  thee. 

I  made  my  escape  by  wrenching  out  the  bars 
of  my  prison  windows.  I  believe  I  do  not  dread 
death,  having  niet  it  often,  and  having  now 
learned  to  see  through  it — yet  life  is  precious 
when  we  can  lay  it  out  for  our  Saviour ;  and  I 
was  glad  to  deliver  the  Abbot  from  blood- 
guiltiness,  and  thy  tender  heart  from  much  sorrow. 


BROTHEU    BARTHOLOMEW.  69 

I  reached  the  top  of  the  liill  which  bounds  our 
valley,  at  the  morning  twilight.  The  village  lay 
dim  in  the  mist,  the  Abbey  tower  rose  up  through 
it,  and  the  voice  of  the  river  came  to  me  like  the 
iarewell  of  a  friend  ;  of  thee  I  could  take  none  ! 
My  heart  misgave  me :  I  was  about  to  cut  the  last 
cable  Avhich  bound  me  to  tlie  shore  of  happy 
days — the  birthi^lace  of  a  new  life  ;  but  I  turned 
away.  The  boat  was  launched — the  little  creek, 
apart  from  the  tides  and  currents  of  the  main, 
was  left  behind,  and  with  it  my  regrets. 

There  are  but  two  calms,  the  calm  of  the  graA'e 
and  of  heaven — the  rest  of  death  and  of  jjerfected 
life.  To  rest  before  the  voyage  is  over  is  to  miss 
the  haven. 

I  passed  through  valley  after  valley,  keeping 
on  tlie  skirts  of  the  forest :  and  at  evening,  when 
the  long  shadows  crept  down  over  the  meadows, 
and  the  herds  of  goats  crept  on  before  them  in 
the  sunshine,  I  stole  out  to  beg  a  morsel  of  bread 
of  the  goatherd,  and  to  drink  of  the  stream.  With 
one  of  these  poor  herdsmen  I  changed  clothes, 
and  in  this  disguise  entered  Heidelberg. 

It  Avas  a  solemn  joy  to  lie  awake  at  night,  with 
nothing  between  me  and  the  infinite  starry 
heavens — nothing  between  my  soul  and  God. 

It  was  a  feast  to  awake  in  the  morning,  in  the 
free  forest,  with  tlio  open  sky  above  me — to  feel 
that  I  might  go  whithersoever  I  Avould  ;  and  yet 
to  know  that  all  my  goings  had  a  purpose — the 
purpose  of  Him  Avho  guideth  us  with  His  eye. 


VO  TFi^:    IJIARY    OF 

I  felt  I  had  issued  from  the  dull  and  smoky- 
lamplight  into  the  daylight ;  from  a  narrow 
monk's  world  into  the  unbounded  God's  world : 
and  the  world  was  a  household,  and  I  His  child  ! 

I  prayed  earnestly,  that  if  there  were  yet  any 
in  the  world  who  lived  simply  by  the  eternal  life 
He  had  manifested,  and  the  rule  He  had  given,  I 
might  find  them — that  we  might  not  be  traveling 
the  same  road  in  the  same  service,  and  yet  walk 
as  strangers  to  one  another. 

For  many  weeks  it  seemed  as  if  I  were  not 
heard. 

The  life  of  the  cities  was  as  a  strange  discord 
to  my  ears ;  they  seemed  like  cities  of  Cain — 
music  Avas  there,  and  workers  with  all  manner  of 
tools,  in  all  manner  of  metals  ;  but  God  Avas  not 
there.  All  the  noise  was  but  to  drown  the  voice 
of  the  River  of  Life,  which,  meanwhile,  flowed  on 
beside  them,  bearing  them  swiftly  to  eternity. 

Priests  were  there,  and  cathedrals,  and  they 
sang  truths  Avhich  might  have  saved  the  souls  of 
all  who  heard  them ;  but  they  sang  them  in  a 
language  the  people  could  not  understand.  Was 
not  this  also  mere  din  to  drown  eternal  voices  ? 

They  made  the  church  windows  opaque  at 
noon,  with  beautiful  colors,  that  men  might  see 
the  altar  tapers. 

And  there  were  processions,  and  preachers, 
preaching  pilgrimages  to  Jerusalem,  and  recount- 
ing the  merits  of  sacred  images,  and  dead  bones ; 
but  of  the  journey  each  man  is  going,  whether  he 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  71 

will  or  no— of  the  living  God,  His  love,  and  His 
light — of  His  defiiced  image  in  man,  and  its  resto- 
ration throngli  the  Second  Man,  the  Lord  from 
heaven — of  the  mystery,  now  a  mystery  no  more, 
which  changes  us  from  homeless  and  ahnless 
vagabonds  into  ]nlgrims  journeying  home,  Avitli 
hands  and  hearts  full  of  blessings — I  heard  in  the 
high  i^laces  not  a  word. 

Oh,  if  men  did  but  know  what  Voice  they  are 
rejecting — what  are  its  words,  and  its  tones  ! 

Some,  indeed,  were  toiling  eai-nestly  to  reach 
the  heavens,  making  themseh^es  wretched  to 
please  God,  as  if  He  had  never  given  Ilis  Son  to 
make  them  happy — toiling,  as  if  the  Light  of  the 
heaven  of  heavens  had  never  come  down  to  men, 
saying,  "  Come  (not  to  heaven — that  you  can  not) 
but  to  Me :  I  am  the  Resurrection  and  the  Life ; 
in  Me  you  shall  live  and  rise." 

It  was  all  the  old  heathendom — with  a  Chris- 
tian name. 

And  again  I  prayed  earnestly,  that,  if  any  still 
adhered  to  the  simplicity  of  the  faith  once 
delivered  to  the  saints,  I  might  discover  them. 
So  I  journeyed  on,  speaking  from  time  to  time, 
to  those  I  met,  of  the  blessed  message,  if  by  any 
means  its  music  might  strike  on  a  string  that 
could  echo  it.  Some  Avere  careless,  and  some 
mocked,  and  some  received  the  ffood  tidino;s 
eagerly,  yet  as  a  new  thing.  None  seemed  to 
recognize  in  them  a  familiar  voice. 
.    At  length,  one  day,  when  I  was  about  three 


V2  THE   DIAEY    OF 

leagues  from  one  of  the  free  cities,  I  fell  in  with 
a  pedlar,  walking  beside  his  mule.  He  did  not 
look  like  a  son  of  the  north  ;  there  Avas  something 
in  the  grave  cheerfulness  of  his  countenance  and 
bearing:  which  interested  me,  and  I  accosted  him. 

He  disj^layed  to  me  his  wares  ;  some  few  of 
them  were  costly  silks  and  stones,  for  the  castle, 
but  the  greater  part  were  woollen  and  cheap 
ornaments,  for  the  peasantry. 

Then  he  asked  me  my  calling,  for  by  this  time 
I  had  changed  my  herdsman's  dress  for  that  of  a 
burgher,  earning  the  pricC  by  cojiying  manu- 
scripts. 

"I,  too,  am  a  merchant,"  I  replied ;  "but  all 
ray  property  is  invested  in  one  jewel.  Your  goods 
perish  in  the  using,  mine  multiply." 

He  looked  at  me  with  peculiar  earnestness. 
"  Incorruptible  things  are  not  bought  and  sold," 
he  said,  significantly. 

"No!"  I  rejoined:  " Freely  ye  have  received, 
freely  give." 

He  paused,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  me  with  a 
gaze  of  eager  inquiry,  he  said  in  Proven§al 
French — 

"  Blessed  are  ye  when  men  shall  revile  you, 
and  shall  sej^arate  you  from  their  company,  and 
shall  reproach  you,  and  cast  out  your  name  as 
evil,  for  the  Son  of  man's  sake." 

My  father's  castle  was  near  the  Pyrenees,  and 
I  knew  the  Proven9al  dialect  well,  and  replied 
by  continuing  the  quotation — 


BKOTHER   liARTHOLOMEW.  73 

"  Rejoice  ye  in  that  day,  and  leap  for  joy  ;  for 
behold  your  reward  is  great  in  heaven  ;  for  in  the 
like  manner  did  their  fathers  nnto  the  prophets." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  we  embraced  each 
other  as  brethren.  When  He  shall  come  Avith 
clouds,  there  will  be  many  rapturous  recogni- 
tions; but  few  will  surpass  the  pure  joy  of  that 
day  to  me. 

"  I  thought,"  he  observed,  "  when  first  you 
spoke  to  me,  that  you  were  one  of  us — and  yet  I 
scarcely  knew  why." 

"  Are  there,  then,  many  of  you  ?"  I  asked, 
eagerly. 

For  n  moment  he  glanced  at  me  half  suspi- 
ciously. 

"  You  must  know  as  well  as  I  do,"  he  replied, 
laconically :  "  the  birds  of  the  air  have  their 
nests  !" 

Then  I  related  to  him  ray  history,  at  least  as 
much  as  was  needful,  and  when  I  had  finished,  he 
grasped  my  hand  again,  more  cordially  than  be- 
fore, saying — 

"  Blessed  are  those  who  have  never  been  within 
the  v\"alls  of  Babylon  ! — more  blessed  they  who 
have  burst  her  bonds  and  come  out  of  her !"  * 

And  he  briefly  sketched  to  me  the  story  of  his 
own  life. 

His  name  Avas  Peter  Waldo  ;  his  native  place 

*  It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  if  the  Vaudois,  and  other  Christian 
sects  of  the  Middle  Ages,  like  the  earlj'  Reformers,  concluded  the 
form  of  Antichristian  power  predominant  in  their  days  to  have  beea 
the  final  one.    They  are  constantly  spoken  of  as  having  done  so. 


^4  THE    DIARY   OP 

Lyons.  The  sudden  death  of  a  friend,  at  a  feast, 
had  first  turned  his  heart  to  God  and  His  Word. 
In  reading,  like  myself,  he  became  convinced  that 
the  Church  of  the  Pope  was  not  a  divine  institu- 
tion — not  the  true  Church;  but  the  dead  image  of 
a  church,  moved  not  by  the  breath  of  life,  but 
by  machinery.  Because  he  believed,  he  spoke, 
and  then  he  found  that  many  had  believed  and 
spoken  the  same  things  before.  It  had  not  been 
left  for  him  to  disinter  the  pearl — thousands  pos- 
sessed it  already.  The  truth,  in  making  him  free, 
had  not  isolated  him,  but  had,  for  tlie  first  time, 
brought  him  into  a  brotherhood  of  Christian 
people.  Henceforth,  having  received  the  promise 
of  an  eternal  inheritance,  he  joyfully  confessed 
himself  a  stranger  on  the  earth,  living  not  to 
himself  but  to  Him  who  died  for  us.  He  caused 
two  translations  of  the  Bible  to  be  made  into  the 
vulgar  dialects  of  France  and  Piedmont,  S2)ending 
his  whole  wealth  in  multiplying  copies  of  these, 
and  in  assisting  the  poor  of  the  flock.  The  priests 
and  magistrates  cast  him  out  of  Lyons,  and  now 
they  persecute  him  from  city  to  city  ;  but  every- 
where he  scatters  precious  seed,  selling  perish- 
able goods,  that  he  may  be  enabled  freely  to  give 
the  imperishable  ;  preaching  the  gospel  of  the 
kingdom,  and  gathering  together  the  children  of 
God  that  are  scattered  abroad.* 

The  multitudes  which  follow  this  way  in  all 

*  For  this  account  of  Waldo  and  the  Christian  sects  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  see  Mosheim,  Milner,  Bost's  History  de  VEglise  des  Freres,  &c. 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW.  75 

places,  but  more  especially  in  Bohemia,  the  south 
of  France,  and  amongst  the  Alps  of  northern 
Italy,  are  incredible — but  I  withhold  details, 
from  reasons  Avhich  thou  mayest  well  surmise. 

There  are  also  some  wild  and  fanatical  i)eople, 
led  away  by  their  own  fleshly  minds,  or  by  false 
teachers,  who  suffer  themselves  to  be  misled  by 
an  unchastened  zeal,  to  resist  the  authorities  and 
pull  down  the  churches ;  and  these  the  persecutors 
take  pains  to  confound  with  the  simple  Christians, 
massing  them  all  together  as  Manichean  heretics : 
but  they  are  no  more  allied  than  art  thou,  my 
brother,  to  those  that  burn  them. 

Before  I  close,  I  will  give  thee  a  brief  account 
of  their  manner  of  assembling  and  worshiping, 
and  my  admission  amongst  them,  refraining  from 
indicating  the  place  otherwise  than  as  a  city  in 
Swabia. 

It  was  at  the  house  of  a  poor  weaver.  Peter 
Waldo  led  me  to  the  door  at  the  dusk  of  the 
evening.  We  were  admitted  in  silence,  and  the 
door  barred  after  us.  Then  passing  singly  through 
a  dark,  narrow  passage,  the  master  of  the  house 
pressed  the  floor  at  the  end  of  it  with  his  foot, 
and  immediately  a  trap-door  sprang  open,  re- 
vealing a  stone  staircase.  We  descended  into  a 
low  damp  cellar,  where  twenty  or  thirty  people, 
men  and  women,  were  already  gathered  around 
one  whom  they  seemed  to  recognize  as  their 
teacher  and  president.  He  approached  us,  and 
embriicing  my  companion,  welcomed  me  amongst 


76  THE    DIAKY    OF 

them.  When  it  was  stated  that  I  wished  to  join 
them,  he  said — 

"  Then  you  have  learned  the  meaning  of  the 
peace  of  God  ? — for  in  tlie  world  we  have  nothing 
to  offer  you  but  tribulation." 

"  I  have,"  I  replied ;  "  to  me  all  things  are 
dross  compared  with  the  knowledge  of  Christ 
Jesus  my  Lord." 

"  It  is  well,  my  brother,"  he  said  ;  "  for  if  we 
be  dead,  we  believe  that  we  also  live  with  Him 
— if  we  suffer,  we  shall  also  reign  with  Him. 
The  kingdom  of  God  shall  yet  be  set  on  high 
amongst  men,  and  the  high  places  of  the  jjroud 
shall  be  cast  down.  For  tlie  day  of  the  Lord 
shall  be  to  us  a  day  of  redemption." 

Then  the  whole  assembly  joined  in  a  circle 
round  me,*  Avhilst  I  knelt  before  the  president, 
and  he  laid  the  book  of  the  Gospels  on  my  head, 
repeating,  in  a  low,  impressive  voice,  the  Lord's 
Prayer,  and  the  first  verses  of  the  Gosj^el  of  St. 
John. 

"  Blessed,"  he  said,  in  addition,  to  me,  "  art 
thou!  for  flesh  and  blood  hath  not  revealed  it 
tmto  thee,  but  our  Father  which  is  in  heaven." 

And  as  I  rose,  the  brethren  greeted  me  M'ith 
the  holy  kiss  of  brotherhood. 

I  thought,  brother  Bartholomew,  of  another 
midnight  service — of  the  extinguished  lights,  the 
degradation  and  the  curses — and  I  felt  that  even 
here  I  had  been  repaid  an  hundredfold. 

*  This  account  of  the  form  of  admission  is  historical. 


BROTHER    BARTHOLOMEW.  77 

"  For  I  am  persuaded,"  as  thou  kuowest,  "that 
none  of  these  things  can  separate  us  from  the 
love  of  God  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord." 

The  president  then  read  some  chapters  from 
the  Bible  ;  and  after  a  short  explanation  and  a 
prayer — in  which  they  prayed  also  for  the  per- 
secutors, and  for  all  in  authority — and  the  sing- 
ing of  a  hymn,  we  sej)arated,  drawn  close  to  one 
another,  and  to  our  Lord,  by  the  Spirit  of  adop- 
tion, and  the  presence  of  Him  whom  no  splendid 
offerings  nor  gorgeous  ceremonial  can  charm 
amongst  us,  but  who  is  ever  with  the  tAvo  or 
three  gathered  in  His  name. 

Every  one  who  attended  that  meeting  was 
there  on  pain  of  death  if  discovered,  so  that  no 
mere  "  smooth  Avords"  would  have  been  suifi- 
cient  to  sustain  us.  The  Word  was  preached 
with  manifestation  of  the  Spirit  and  power — for, 
brother  Bartholomew,  it  is  a  certain  truth  that 
the  Spirit  of  God  is  sent  forth  from  on  high,  and 
abideth  perpetually  in  the  living  temple  of  the 
living  God,  as  with  every  quickened  soul. 

The  Church  is  7iot  orphaned. 

There  is  a  Vicar  of  Chi'ist  on  earth,  and  an  In- 
fallible Teacher,  the  other  Comforter. 

But  it  is  not  the  Pope. 

FRAGMENT  OP   LETTER   THE   SECOND. 

Not  receiving  any  answer  from  thee,  I  yet 
venture  to  write  thee  again,  believing  that  thy 


78  THE   DIARY   OF 

letter  may  have  miscarried,  and  that  mine  can 
bring  thee  into  no  trouble. 

I  have  traveled  through  many  places  since  last 
I  wrote  thee,  and  everywhere  found  fragments  of 
this  blessed  brotherhood,  bound  together  by  no 
secret  vows  or  concerted  signals,  distinguished 
by  no  peculiar  garb,  yet  fitting  together  as  exactly 
as  the  fragments  of  a  torn  letter  ;  recognizing  one 
another  as  the  children  of  one  family  by  the 
mysterious  tie  of  kindred — loving  one  another 
with  the  natural  affection  of  new-created  hearts. 

I  have  found  them  among  the  industrious 
craftsmen  of  the  trading  cities ;  in  Languedoc, 
amongst  the  noble  and  learned  of  the  land,  but 
chiefly  amongst  the  recesses  of  the  mountains — 
God's  citadels  of  old  for  His  oppressed  people. 
Especially  amongst  the  Alps  of  northern  Italy,  on 
the  old  Roman  highroad  from  Italy  to  Gaul,  they 
are  gathered  in  great  numbers.  Elsewhere,  they 
meet  and  part  in  secret,  or  are  scattered  in 
families,  or  one  by  one;  but  there  they  are 
gathered  together  in  villages,  and  meet,  in  the 
summer,  in  the  open  air,  pealing  their  thanks- 
givings, as  loud  as  they  will,  to  heaven. 

There  are  no  churches  so  grand  as  theirs, 
brother  Bartholomew — cathedrals  of  God's  own 
building :  gigantic  rocks,  mountains  clothed  like 
saints  in  white,  girding  them  around :  for  their 
organ  and  instruments  of  music,  the  voices  of 
many  waters ;  for  their  sacrifices,  the  ofiering  of 
redeemed  and  thankful  hearts. 


BROTHER     BARTHOLOMEW.  V9 

An  "  old,  bad  race  of  men,"  their  enemies  call 
them;  and  some  of  themselves  say,  that  the 
Apostle  Paul  himself  first  planted  their  Church, 
and  that  it  has  been  watered  by  the  constant  in- 
flux of  Christian  exiles,  jjersecuted  first  by  Im- 
perial, and  since  by  Ecclesiastical  Rome,  men 
who  counted  the  reproach  of  Christ  greater  riches 
than  the  treasures  of  Egypt.  There  is  an  apostolic 
succession,  my  brother,  but  it  is  not  continued  by 
the  laying  on  of  men's  hands. 

They  speak  much  and  reverently  of  one  Claude, 
Bishop  of  Turin,  who  died  about  three  hundred 
years  ago,  as  a  pillar  of  their  Church.  They  are 
a  brave  and  industrious  people,  hardened  by  toil 
and  danger— for  though  some  of  their  valleys  are 
fertile,  it  tasks  their  strength  to  the  utmost  to  eke 
out  a  subsistence  from  their  mountain  fields  and 
pastures  ;  and  though,  as  yet,  no  persecution  has 
wasted  their  valleys,  they  live  in  constant  perils, 
and,  as  it  were,  with  their  lives  in  their  hands — 
or  rather,  in  God's  hands. 

Li  winter,  many  of  the  men  will  travel  fifteen 
or  twenty  miles  on  the  Sunday,  swimming 
through  rivers,  and  scaling  mountains,  to  hear 
the  Word  of  God,  and  meet  their  brethren  and 
pastors  ;  and  this,  not  because  they  deem  such 
meetings  necessary  to  save  their  souls,  but  because 
of  the  joy  it  gives,  and  the  burning  of  the  heart, 
when  a  few  disciples  meet  together  in  the  name 
of  Jesus — and  He  in  the  midst.  Many  noblemen 
and  women  of  rank  join  them;  some  relinquishing 


80  THE   DIAKY    OF 

wealth,  and  coxintiy,  and  kindred,  to  serve  tlieir 
God  in  peace;  and  others  residing  in  the  castles 
which  crown  the  heights  of  their  valleys.  There 
is  a  religious  order — God's  clergy,  the  lot  of  His 
inheritance — set  apart  from  the  world,  not  by 
distinctive  vows  or  habit,  but  simply  by  holding 
forth  the  truth  which  the  world  hates,  and  living 
the  life  of  holiness  which  the  world  despises — 
separated  from  the  wanderers  by  going  straight 
forward — marked  out  from  the  darkness  by  shin- 
ing— cast  out  by  men,  and  set  on  high  by  God. 

There  is  a  holy  war,  but  its  weapons  are  not 
carnal ;  and  a  taking  of  the  cross,  but  it  is  not  a 
sign  of  glory  amongst  men. 

I  am  living  now  with  Henri,  a  poor  wea^'er  of 
Lyons,  the  native  city  of  my  friend,  Peter  Waldo, 
Indeed,  so  many  of  the  simple  Christians  here 
follow  this  craft,  that  they  are  commonly  called 
the  tissemnds,  or  poor  men  of  Lyon;<.  But  long, 
I  believe,  I  shall  not  be  able  to  remain  here,  the 
Abbot  Bernard,  of  Clairvaux,  having  excited  the 
city,  of  late,  against  us.  I  remember  thy  speaking 
of  him  as  a  Christian  man — alas  !  hov/  many,  even 
of  such,  know  not  what  they  do  ! 

Our  life  is  very  quiet  and  simple.  I  maintain 
myself,  and  assist  the  family  of  my  host,  by  copy- 
ing and  translating  manuscripts  of  the  Scriptures : 
thus  also  sowing,  whilst  I  reap.  At  leisure  hours, 
I  take  rounds  amongst  the  neighboring  villages 
and  towns,  sometimes  with  a  pedlar's  wares, 
sometimes  without.     The  common  people  for  the 


BROTHER   BARTHOLOMEW,  81 

most  part  hear  us  gladly,  and  not  a  few  believe. 
Of  these,  some  remain  attached  outwardly  to  the 
old  ecclesiastical  system,  and  some  openly  forsake 
it ;  this  we  leave  to  every  man's  conscience,  our 
chief  aim  being  to  unite  souls  to  Christ,  and  then 
to  leave  them  with  Him. 

We  have  had  trouble  in  our  flxmily  lately, 
Henri  having  been  laid  on  his  pallet  by  fever  and 
prostration  of  strength  for  many  weeks. 

His  lying  there,  so  uncomplaining,  often  even 
triumphing  amidst  his  pain,  seems  to  hallow  the 
cottage  into  a  temple  for  all  of  us.  As  I  sit  at  my 
desk  in  the  other  corner  of  the  room,  I  hear  him 
repeating  whole  psalms  and  books  of  the  Bible 
to  himself— for  thus  it  is  our  wont  to  make  up 
for  the  scarcity  of  the  copies  of  the  Sacred  Script- 
in-es. 

At  times,  he  calls  us  all  to  praise  the  Lord 
with  him ;  and  then,  the  children  joining  us,  we 
sing  a  hymn  around  his  bed. 

Before  meals,  it  is  customary  with  us  either  to 
kneel  in  silence  for  the  space  of  twenty  or  thirty 
Pater  Nosters,  giving  thanks  in  the  depths  of  our 
hearts,  or  our  brother  Henri  will  offer  up  some 
simple  grace,  such  as — "Thou  who  didst  feed  the 
five  thousand,  feed  us" — "  Thou  who  givest  us 
this  bodily  nourishment,  deign  also  to  feed  our 
souls." 

Henri's  poor  wife  is  generally  almost  as  patient 
as  he  is,  although  it  is  so  much  sadder  to  see 
those  we  love  languish  and  suffer,  than  to  suffer 


82  THE   DIABY    OF 

ourselves.  But  enduring  as  she  usually  is,  the 
other  day  her  faith  seemed  to  fail ; — her  husband's 
recovery  so  long  hoped  for  and  so  long  deferred, 
and  my  manuscripts  having  failed  to  sell ;  one 
little  sickly  child  crying  fretfully  on  her  knee — 
the  others  clinging,  hungry  and  half-clad,  around 
her :  she  hid  her  face,  and  sobbed  aloud. 

"O  Henri!"  she  murmured,  "what  have  we 
done,  that  our  prayers  can  not  reach  the  Lord  ?" 

He  took  her  hands  in  his,  and  said,  "  Alette, 
they  have  reached  Him.  He  is  only  keeping 
back  the  help  until  the  best  moment  comes." 

"  Our  need  can  scarcely  be  sorer,  Henri !"  she 
said.  "  Can  He  love  us,  and  know  it  all,  and  not 
help?" 

"  He  is  helping  us,  Alette  ;  He  is  teaching  us 
now  one  of  His  best  lessons — the  lesson  all  have 
had  to  learn  in  turn.  He  is  teaching  us  to  trust 
and  toait.  He  is  watching  us,  to  see  how  we  are 
learning  it.  Let  us  look  up  to  Him,  Alette,  that 
we  may  hear  His  voice  in  the  storm.  Let  us  ask 
Him  to  bless  us  in  the  trial,  and  I  am  sure  He 
Avill  bless  us  after  it." 

And  we  knelt  together,  and  prayed,  and  were 
heard. 

Ah !  brother  Bartholomew,  there  is  no  disci- 
pline  like  God's.  We  seek  to  discipline  the  heart 
by  hardening  it — He  by  melting  it.  And  there 
is  no  comfort  like  God's.  Our  medicines  weaken 
the  constitution  in  relieving  the  disease ;  Plis 
strengthen  the  heart,  while  they  heal  the  wound. 


BROTHER   BAI^TIIOLOME^^^  83 

It  is  a  grieA'ous  mistake  to  abstract  ourselves 
from  all  the  bracing  air  of  everyday  life,  and  the 
softening  training  of  liome,  to  the  mechanical 
routine,  and  the  dull,  close  atmosphere  of  a  con- 
vent— to  substitute  our  dead  machinery  of  rules 
and  abstinences  for  the  living  school  of  God. 

It  is  a  blessed  thing  to  be  immediately  under 
the  guidance  of  His  hand,  cost  what  it  may. 

I  have  taken  my  revenge  on  my  younger 
brother,  and  on  her.  I  have  left  them  a  New 
Testament,  copied  by  my  own  hand,  Vvith  the 
promise  that  they  will  read  it. 

LETTER   THE    THIRD THE    PRIS02>r    AT   COLOGNE. 

The  Abbot  Bernard  has  succeeded  in  scatter- 
ing our  flock  at  Lyons,  aided  by  the  excesses 
which  some,  in  their  untempered  zeal,  committed. 
Some  of  us  have  fled  to  the  Alps,  some  to  Hun- 
gary, Bohemia,  Austria,  and  Swabia.  I  myself 
went  northward  once  more  ;  but  they  have  cap- 
tured me  at  last,  with  many  others.  This  must 
be  my  last  farewell  to  thee,  my  brother,  for  to- 
morrow we  die ! 

This  evening,  we  made  of  the  portion  of  bi'ead 
and  water  Avhich  they  gave  us  a  holy  supper, 
trusting  that  He  whose  word  made  the  water 
Aviue  would  not  regard  the  imperfectness  of  the 
symbol.  His  presence  made  the  prison  fare  a 
heavenly  feast. 

It  was  the  last  meal  we  shall  eat  on  earth ;  it 


84  THE    DIARY    OF 

seemed  more  like  the  first  in  heaven.  To-day 
we  have  once  more  shown  forth  His  death ;  to- 
morrow, we  shall  be  with  Him  for  ever,  and  then 
the  long  to-morrow  of  the  day  of  the  resurrec- 
tion !  For  to-morrow  we  are  to  die  at  tlic 
stake ! 

This  has  the  Abbot  Bernard  effected  (not  that 
I  believe  he  himself  wished  to  compass  our 
death).  If  we  meet  one  another,  by  and  by, 
redeemed  and  cleansed  by  the  same  precious 
blood,  how  he  will  wonder  at  his  own  work ! 

But,  for  us,  how  is  it  possible  to  resent,  when 
so  soon  we  shall  stand  before  Him  with  whom 
we  have  none  of  us  anything  to  plead  but  Him- 
self! 

"  Thou  hast  redeemed  ns  by  thine  own  blood." 

\Ye  have  a  sure  anchor,  reaching  to  that  with- 
in the  veil,  even  Christ  in  us,  and  "  in  heaven  " — 
"  the  hope  of  glory." 

The  last  storm  is  coming  on  me — the  vessel 
tosses — the  flesh  trembles  ;  but,  my  brother,  the 
Anchor  is  firm! 


[For  many  years  a  blank  occurs  in  brother 
Bartholomew's  chronicle;  then  it  recommences 
in  a  feeble  and  tremulous  hand,  and  after  noting 
one  day,  closes  abruptly.] 

JIarienthal,  November  I. — All  Saints. 
It   is   long   since   I   have    written    anything. 


BROTHER   BARXnOLOMEW.  85 

Things  have  changed  since  brother  Conrad  left. 
The  whole  convent  seems  to  look  suspiciously  on 
nie,  as  his  friend,  and  perhaps  the  accomplice  of 
his  flight.  Ill  clearing  myself  from  this  latter 
imputation,  I  have  sometimes  been  led  to  say 
more  than  I  meant  against  him,  and  afterwards 
my  heart  has  reproached  me  bitterly.  He  was 
ever  with  me,  as  a  son  with  his  father;  and 
sometimes  I  tremble,  thinking  that  I  misled  him, 
and  that  I  myself  have  been  rash  and  presumpt- 
uous in  my  belief,  taking  too  much,  and  too 
boldly,  from  the  Bible,  and  looking  with  too 
little  reverence  to  the  fathers  and  rulers  of  the 
Church. 

And  then  the  seducing  thought  comes — 
"What,  after  all,  if  he  be  right  and  thou  wrong?" 
And  in  the  tumult  and  confusion  of  the  many 
voices  in  my  old  brain,  I  can  not  always  tell 
which  are  the  devils  and  Avhich  the  ano;els. 

Mother  Magdalis  died  a  few  weeks  after 
brother  Conrad  disappeared,  and  a  stranger, 
whom  I  mislike  and  mistrust,  occupies  her  cot- 
tage. It  is  singular  I  should  never  have  heard 
from  brother  Conrad  ;  sometimes  I  think  he  may 
have  written,  and  his  letters  miscarried,  or  been 
witJiheld,  for  why  else  do  they  watch  me  so  sus- 
piciously, and  never  suffer  me  to  visit  and 
preach  to  the  poor  peasants  around,  as  I  used  to 
do? 

Once,  Nannerl  told  me  (she  always  loved  him 
since  he  rescued  her  boy),  that  amongst  other 
8 


86  tiijs  diary  of 

heretics,  Cathari,  Pauliciens,  Vaudois,  and  Pic- 
ards,  whom  they  burnt  at  Cologne,  a  few  years 
since,  was  one  of  a  lofty  and  commanding  pres- 
ence, said  to  be  a  Spanish  nobleman — that  he 
touched  the  peojDle  so  by  his  calm  and  heavenly 
words,  that  many  wept;  and  then  he  prayed 
them  not  to  weep  for  him,  for  he  was  only  going 
home  by  a  rough  way,  but  for  themselves,  that 
Jesus  might  have  pity  on  them,  and  forgive 
them  their  sins.  It  might  have  been  him.  It 
may  be  only  JSTannerl's  fancy.  It  was  certainly 
like  him.  However  it  be,  God  rest  his  soul ! 
and  yet,  why  do  I  pray  thus  ?  Surely,  if  he  died 
so,  he  must  have  been  at  rest  these  many  years. 
Yet  the  decrees  of  the  Holy  Catholic  and  Apos- 
tolic Church,  and  the  Vicar  of  Christ  on  earth  ! 
God  help  me !  I  am  a  poor  old  man,  and  my 
brain  is  sorely  confused  at  times.  Many  of  the 
monks  point  pityingly  at  me,  as  at  one  half- 
crazed  ;  but  I  am  not  that — only  tried,  and  very 
tired. 

Also,  the  new  Abbot  is  a  jovial  man,  who 
loveth  hunting,  and  wine,  and  pleasure,  so  that 
the  convent  echoeth  oftener  with  the  voice  of 
mirth  than  with  that  of  jjrayer ;  and  for  such 
things  my  old  ears  are  out  of  tune. 

My  flesh  faileth — my  heart  faileth ;  I  am 
very  lonely  and  desolate ;  I  seem  to  be  as  a 
wrecked  vessel,  rotting,  useless,  on  the  shore. 
And  yet,  at  times,  I  have  gleams  of  a  better 
hope.     Have  I  not  clung  to  the  cross  of  my 


BROTHEK    BAETHOLOMEW.  87 

Lord  ?  and  is  He  not  living — and  His  promise 
very  sure  ? 

O  blessed  Lord  Jesus,  I  am  a  weary  old  man, 
sorely  tired  with  this  burden  of  life  ;  Avilt  Thou 
not  soon  say,  "  Come  to  Me  ?  "  for  Thou  knowest 
I  need  rest. 


SKETCHES 


OF   THE 


UNITED  BRETHREN  OF  BOHEMIA 
AND  ^lORAVIA. 


SKETCHES  OF  THE 

UNITED  BRETHREN  OF  BOHEMIA  AND 
MORAVIA. 


PART  I. 

THE   FIFTEENTH   CENTUET. 


I. 

John  Huss  had  been  dead  for  eight  years ;  and 
during  the  greater  part  of  that  time  Bohemia 
had  been  blazing  with  the  fire  kindled  at  his  stake. 
The  words  he  had  spoken  under  the  roof  had  in- 
deed,  as  he  foretold,  been  pealed  forth  from  the 
house-top,  though  not  in  the  sense  or  with  the 
effect  he  could  have  wished. 

The  eternal  truths  he  taught  had  doubtless 
been  Avorking  their  way,  like  most  heavenly 
agencies,  in  silence,  purifying  the  hearts  which 
received  them,  to  see  further  than  their  teacher ; 
but  of  these,  historians  have,  in  general,  spoken 


92        SKETCHES    OF   THE    UNITED    BRETHREN 

only  parenthetically,  like  indisciiminating  alms- 
givers,  bestowing  the  largest  share  of  their  at- 
tention on  the  most  clamorous.  Of  the  true  suc- 
cessors of  Huss,  preacher  of  the  gospel  in  Beth- 
lehem Chapel,  we  know  very  little  ;  whilst  of 
Ziska  and  his  Taborites — their  intrepidity  and 
ferocity,  their  victories  and  slaughters,  their  vio- 
lent dissolution  of  five  hundred  convents,  and 
their  torturing  a  poor  priest  to  death  for  denying 
transubstantiation — we  hear  far  moi*e  than  we 
could  wish. 

In  the  spring  of  the  year  1423,  the  Hussite 
army  was  encamped  before  Prague,  to  chastise 
an  attempt  of  the  citizens  to  elect  a  king. 

"Twice,"  said  Ziska,  "have  I  saved  Prague 
from  the  Emperor — now  I  come  to  destroy  it !" 

At  first  the  soldiers  murmured.  The  old  royal 
city,  enthroned  on  its  twin  hills,  the  crown  of 
Bohemian  nationality,  the  shrine  of  Calixtine 
faith,  had  a  sacredness  in  their  eyes.  Was.it  not 
the  holy  city  of  Huss  ?  Had  not  they  themselves 
defended  it  with  their  life-blood  ? 

But  loyalty  to  the  blind  old  chief  who  had  led 
them  tln-ough  so  many  perils  to  so  many  vic- 
tories, whose  blindness  had  on  them  the  double 
claim  of  suffering,  and  the  transcendent  energy 
which  vanquished  it — the  habit  of  obedience, 
and  the  enthusiasm  of  personal  devotion  to  their 
general,  overcame  the  spell  of  association ;  they 
invested  Prague,  and  prepared  for  the  assault. 

For  a  brief  space,  the  then  contending  parties 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MOEAVIA.  93 

— Calixtines,  Tabovites,  and  Roman  Catholics — 
whose  strife  had  been  deluging  the  city  with 
blood,  were  frightened  into  agreement  by  the 
presence  of  one  stronger  than  they. 

The  gates  were  thrown  open,  and  a  peaceful 
procession  issued  slowly  from  them. 

At  its  liead  was  John  Rockyzan,  the  cathedral 
prcachei-,  and  virtual  leader  of  the  Calixtine  or 
"Moderate"  party. 

He  came  to  intercede  for  Prague.  He  pleaded 
the  services  Ziska  himself  had  rendered  her,  and 
the  love  he  had  borne  her.  His  eloquent  voice 
on  Ziska's  heart  prevailed.  The  city  was  spared ; 
and,  as  in  the  days  of  the  old  Hebrew  combat- 
ants, whose  wars  the  Hussites  imagined  them- 
selves commissioned  to  imitate,  a  pile  of  stones 
was  reared  on  the  camp,  as  a  memorial  of  the 
covenant ;  whoever  first  broke  the  covenant  be- 
ing doomed  to  be  crushed  beneath  the  memorial. 
But  the  election  of  a  khig  was  prudently  waived, 
and  Ziska,  with  his  troops,  made  a  triumphant 
entry  into  Prague. 


94        SKETCHES    OF   THE   UNITED   BRETHEEN 


II. 


Another  thirty  years  had  clasped.  Ziska,  his 
successor  Prosopins,  the  scourge  of  Saxony,  and 
their  array  of  Taborites,  had  passed  out  of  hear, 
ing.  That  mighty  creation  of  human  will  and 
force  had  been  crushed  and  utterly  dissolved;  but 
the  truth,  and  the  hearts  it  had  regenerated,  re- 
mained,  stronger  than  all  storms.  All  that  was 
combustible  had  blazed  and  been  consumed; 
what  was  not  combustible  "burned,  and  was 
consumed  not" — the  starlight  outliving  the  fire- 
works, to  glorify  God  by  its  quiet  shining. 

From  the  ruins  of  the  armies  of  Tabor  had 
arisen  the  Church  of  the  United  Brethren. 

One  winter's  day,  in  the  year  1456,  two  foot- 
travelers  were  ascending  one  of  the  lower  hills 
of  the  northern  mountain-range  of  Bohemia. 
They  walked  fast,  for  the  air  was  buoyant  and 
frosty,  and  they  were  conversing  eagerly ;  their 
steps  keeping  pace  with  their  words.  Both  were 
clad  in  the  clerical  garb;  one  in  the  monastic 
habit,  the  other  in  that  of  a  secular  priest.  They 
were  uncle  and  nephew  ;  and  there  was  in  them 
that  mixture  of  resemblance  and  contrast  which 
BO  often  causes   us   to  make  involuntary   com- 


OP   BOHEMIA   AND   MOEAVIA.  95 

parisons  between  members  of  the  same  family. 
Neither  was  young,  and  there  was  little  apparent 
difterence  in  their  ages.  Both  were  genuine  Sola- 
vonians  ;  both  were  tall  and  dark,  with  muscular 
limbs,  and  the  firm  tread  of  mountaineers ;  both 
had  straight  features  and  broad,  massive  fore- 
heads. But  in  the  expression,  in  all  which 
thought  and  life  stamp  upon  the  features,  there 
was  a  strickiug  contrast.  On  the  brow  of  the 
monk  time  had  ploughed  long  furrows,  but  from 
beneath,  the  large  eyes  looked  forth  serene  and 
trustful  as  those  of  a  thoughtful  child ;  but  from 
amidst  the  countless  petty  and  anxious  lines 
which  wrinkled  the  face  of  the  priest,  gleamed  a 
pair  of  eyes  restless  and  distrustful  as  those  of 
some  small  animal  perpetually  on  the  Avatch 
against  attacks  it  had  no  strength  to  resist.  The 
soul  of  the  one  Avas  as  a  harA^estfield  on  which 
time  had  drawn  broad  furrows,  the  depositories 
of  precious  seed ;  whilst  that  of  the  other  was  as 
a  highway  cut  up  and  kept  barren  by  the  daily 
trampling  of  a  thousand  cares. 

The  uncle  was  John  Ilockyzan,  he  whose  elo- 
quent intei-cession  had  saved  Prague  thirty  years 
before,  now  acknowledged  chief  of  the  Calix- 
tines,  and  Archbishop  of  Prague,  by  the  choice 
of  the  States,  though  unconfirmed  by  the  Pope. 
The  nephew  was  Gregory,  of  the  Abbey  of  Ra- 
serherz,  leader  and  provisional  Elder  of  the 
United  Brethren  of  Bohemia :  although,  had  you 
addressed  him  by  that  title,  he  would  probably 


96         SKETCHES   OF  THE   UNITED   BRETHREN 

not  have  recognized  himself;  for  if  he  led  the 
infant  Chiu'ch,  it  was  by  no  official  staff,  but 
simply  because  he  pointed  out  to  her  the  straight 
path,  and  she  desired  to  walk  in  it. 

"The  Brethren  are  unreasonable  Avith  mc," 
said  Rockyzan,  imiDatiently,  in  answer  to  a  re- 
mark of  Gregory's.  "  I  am,  after  all,  their  best 
friend ;  but  because  I  work  by  a  slow  and  safe 
process  to  effect  their  object,  like  impatient  chil- 
dren, they  are  always  fretting  and  teasing  me. 
Has  any  man  denounced  more  boldly  than  I  have 
the  corruptions  of  the  Roman  Church  ?  Have  I 
not  declared  her  to  be  the  Western  Babylon,  and 
the  Pope  the  enemy  who  sowed  the  tares  among 
the  wheat  ?  Have  I  not  said  publicly,  in  the 
hearing  of  priests  and  courtiers,  that  we  Calix- 
tines  do  not  go  far  enough,  cleansing  only  the 
outside  of  the  cup '?  And  even  in  that  for  which 
you  most  bitterly  reproacli  mo,  the  compact 
which  I  negotiated  between  the  Calixtines  and 
Rome,  have  I  not  most  effectually  served  your 
cause  ? — for  has  not  the  civil  war  which  ensued, 
disastrous  as  it  was,  been  the  means  of  sifting 
from  amongst  you  tlie  turbulent  men  who  would 
have  renCAved  the  barbarities  of  Ziska,  of  the 
chalice,  and  the  Taborites,  and  thus  left  you,  in 
the  midst  of  defeat,  really  strengthened,  because 
purified  ?" 

"  It  is  true,"  replied  Gregory,  gently ;  "  the 
hand  of  the  great  Husbaiidman  has  turned  the 
sword  into  a  pruninghook." 


OF  BOHEMIA   AND  MOEAVIA.  97 

"  And  who,"  pursued  Roclcyzan,  "  has  toiled 
more  than  I  for  the  triumph  of  the  gospel  ?  When 
I  found  that  the  Pope  was  only  trifling  with  us  in 
his  pretended  compact,  refusing  to  confirm  me  in 
she  arch-episcopate,  did  I  not  labor,  and  scheme, 
and  negotiate  for  years,  to  re-knit  the  old  ties 
which  once  bound  our  Bohemian  Church  to  that 
of  the  Greek  empire  ?  And  I  should  have  suc- 
ceeded, if  the  Turks  had  not  taken  Constanti- 
nople Avhilst  the  negotiations  were  pending ; — 
was  that  the  fault  of  my  double-mindeduess,  as 
they  call  it  ?" 

"  It  was  proof  that  our  strength  lies  elsewhere 
than  in  political  machinations,"  remarked  Gre- 
gory. "  You  have  indeed  schemed  and  toiled 
enough :  all  that  I  desire  for  you  now  is,  that  you 
should  cast  from  you  all  those  subtle  webs  of  po- 
licy, and  go  forth  in  the  strength  of  dependent 
loyalty." 

"  It  is  well,"  resumed  Rockyzan,  "  for  men  like 
you  to  speak  thus  ;  your  path  is  straight,  and  you 
may  thank  God  for  it.  You  have  none  but  your- 
selves to  consider;  I  have  all  Bohemia  in  my 
heart.  The  peasant  may  go  to  his  work  singing 
under  his  load,  but  he  who  is  gifted  with  the 
power,  or  set  in  the  place  of  the  ruler,  must  not 
shrink  from  burdens  though  he  sink  beneath 
them." 

"  My  kinsmen,"  interposed  Gregory,  "you  mis- 
take your  calling.  Christ  rules  His  Church,  not 
you;  you  are  the  minister,  not  the  master;  as 
9 


98        SKETCHES    OF  THE    UJS^ITED   BRETHREN 

servants,  we  have  no  course  but  to  do  His  bid- 
ding, leaving  the  responsibility  and  the  result 
with  Him.  We  do  not  uphold  the  truth  ;  it  up- 
holds us." 

Rockyzan  was  silent  for  a  few  moments  before 
he  rejoined : — 

"Had  I  done  as  you  say,  declared  myself 
openly  one  of  you,  what  voice  would  have  filled 
the  cathedral  of  Prague  with  gospels  and  denun- 
ciations? Who  would  have  fed  the  deserted 
flock  ?  Who  would  have  pleaded  for  you  with 
our  noble  sovereign,  George  Podiebrad,  and  ob- 
tained the  district  of  Litiz  as  a  Goshen  for  you, 
as  I  have  done  ?" 

"  Is  not  the  living  God  on  our  side  ?"  said  Gre- 
gory. "  If  He  is  not^  let  our  cause  perish  ;  if  He 
is,  who  can  hinder  it  ?" 

"You  are  so  one-sided  with  your  solitary 
monastic  habits,"  replied  Rockyzan  ;  "  St.  Paul 
was  not  above  that  tact  and  management,  that 
politic  accommodation,  which  you  abhor ;  was 
he  not  all  things  to  all  men,  if  by  any  means  he 
might  gain  some  ?  I  would  gain  all  Bohemia  for 
the  gospel." 

"  That  was  precisely  what  St.  Paul  gained  by 
his  distinct  and  decided  position,"  Gregory 
quietly  remarked ;  "  those  who  do  not  compro- 
mise can  afford  to  conciliate." 

"But  what  would  you  have  me  do?"  demanded 
Rockyzan,  impatiently,  after  a  few  moments'  he- 
sitation. 


OF    BOHEMIA    AND    MORAVIA.  99 

"What  your  conscienee  dictates,"  said  Gre- 
gory, looking  steadily  in  his  tlice  ;  then  laying  his 
hand  on  Rockyzan's  ai'm,  he  continued,  with 
appealing  earnestness — "  John  Rockyzan,  we 
know  one  another  well;  you  have  power,  but 
you  have  not  peace ;  I  want  you  to  sacrifice 
much,  that  you  may  gain  all.  You  see  before 
you  honor,  power,  the  favor  of  your  king — a  po- 
sition fi-om  which  you  might  rule  your  country ; 
but  they  lie  one  step  out  of  your  path.  You  in- 
tend to  turn  aside  to  gather  them,  and  then  to 
return  and  use  them  for  your  Master.  You  are 
mistaken.  Talents  gained  in  disobedience  to 
Him  can  hardly  be  used  in  obedience ;  there  is  a 
tendency  in  motion  in  any  direction  to  perpetuate 
itself;  you  will  either  toil  on  with  your  burden 
of  earth  until,  weary  and  dispirited,  you  are  com- 
pelled to  cast  it  from  you,  and  return,  after  the 
loss  of  precious  years,  to  the  point  from  which 
you  started;  or  you  will  not  return;  you  will 
never  return ;  you  will  labor  with  your  restless 
heart  and  your  burden  of  cares,  and  the  end  of 
all  your  travail  Avill  be  to  be  lost.  O  my  kins- 
man, bear  with  me,  and  listen  to  my  words  :  you 
are  come  to  a  cross-road  in  your  life ;  you  know 
the  way  ;  walk  in  it.  '  If  any  man  serve  me,  let 
him  follow  me.'  There  is  no  serving  Christ  but 
in  following  Him  with  a  single  heart." 

Again  Rockyzan  asked,    "  What  would   you 
have  me  do  ?" 

"Ask  your  God  that  question,"  replied  Gre- 


100        SKETCHES    OF    THE    UNITED    BRETHREN 

gory,  with  increasing  earnestness.  "He  will 
show  you — not,  indeed,  the  whole  scheme  of  your 
life — but  the  next  step  ;  if  any  man  will  do  His 
will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine.  I  can  only 
tell  you  what  I  will  do.  We  believe  that  the 
system  of  the  Cliurcli  of  Rome  keeps  men  aflir  off 
from  God,  instead  of  bringing  them  nigh  to  Him; 
tossing  the  hearts  of  the  faithful  with  doubts,  and. 
lulling  the  consciences  of  the  careless  with  dreams. 
We  believe  that  she  has  hidden  the  cross  on 
which  our  sins  Avere  blotted  out,  and  closed  the 
sepulchre  which  our  ri:;en  Lord  opened  for  us,  by 
the  dead  doctrines  and  hollow  ceremonies  which 
she  has  built  over  them;  her  refusal  of  the  sacra- 
mental cup  to  the  laity  being  but  a  type  of  the 
cup  of  salvation  which  she  withholds  from  them. 
With  her  f  ilse  doctrines  and  ceremonies  we  have 
nothing  to  do ;  but  the  cross,  tlie  riven  tomb,  and 
the  tree  cup  of  life,  are  our  all.  She  conceals  and 
withholds  them,  but  God  has  revealed  and  freely 
given  them  to  us ;  therefore  we  must  offer  them 
freely  to  one  another.  This  is  the  solo  object  x)f 
our  little  community  at  Litiz.  For  some  time,  as 
you  know,  we  have  accepted  teachers  from  the 
Calixtines ;  but,  in  spite  of  our  earnest  remon- 
strances, they  send  us  men  who  only  pull  dov\-n 
Avhat  we  seek  to  build  up.  We  have,  therefore, 
110  resource  but  to  recognize  those  amonsfst  us 
whom  God  has  endowed  with  gifts  of  governing 
and  teaching,  and  to  trust  Him  for  the  result. 
Our  high  priest,  our  master,  our  bishop,  our  chief 


OF   BOHKMIA   AND   MOKAVIA.  101 

pastor,  is  none  else  than  the  living  Son  of  God ; 
our  canons,  His  Word  ;  our  guide  and  counselor, 
the  Eternal  Spirit,  whom  He  has  sent  forth  to 
abide  in  His  Churcli,  and  build  it  up.  Our  prayer 
for  our  Church  is,  that  if  she  ceases  to  minister  to 
the  world  as  a  living  body,  she  may  never  pollute 
it  as  a  corpse ;  that  if  she  ceases  to  live,  she  may 
cease  to  be.  We  are  now  about  to  enter  on  the 
serious  work  of  seeking  and  appointing  our 
pastors  ;  if  you  like  to  join  us,  you  can." 

All  this  while  they  had  been  toiling  up  steep 
after  steep,  until  at  length  they  reached  the  height 
of  the  Donnersberg,  the  highest  of  the  grouj)  of 
volcanic  mountains,  which  they  say  once  arose  as 
islands  out  of  the  lake  of  Bohemia,  and  through 
which  the  Elbe  has  cut  itself  a  stormy  passage. 

Around  them  lay  mountains,  upheaved,  wave 
on  wave,  by  the  tossings  of  a  fiery  sea,  girding 
in  their  fatherland  on  all  sides,  and  guarding  it, 
the  fruit  of  such  convulsions  now  reposing  in 
calm  strength  beneath  the  heavens.  Snow  covered 
the  heights,  glowing  in  the  warm  light  of  the  low 
sun.  Over  the  sunny  upland  pastures  the  white 
fi'ost  was  steaming  up  in  soft  transparent  clouds ; 
from  the  dim  white  fog  below  arose  hills  of  dark 
pine  woods,  and  red  masses  of  leafless  oaks. 

Beyond  spread  the  broad  plain,  teeming  with 

life;  valleys  nestling  in  the  heart  of  the  lower 

hills ;  spires  glittering  through   the   thin   mist ; 

rivers  linking  together  the  cities  v/ith  silver  chains : 

and  over  all  floated  the  still,  clear  sunlight.  They 
9=;= 


102     SKETCHES   OF  THE   UNITED   BRETHREN 

paused  and  looked,  and  listened  to  the  silence. 
At  length  Rockyzan  exclaimed — 

"  See  how  our  country  lies  before  us,  guarded 
by  her  mountain  walls  from  all  the  world  without, 
linked  together  Avithin  by  life-giving  waters  !  My 
hand  shall  never  be  the  one  to  break  her  sacred 
unity !  Let  us  have  a  Bohemian  Church,  or 
none !" 

But  Gregory  replied,  sadly — 

"  My  kinsman,  there  is  another  mountain,  from 
whose  holy  calm  God  looks  down  on  the  whole 
earth,  and  throughout  it  the  Father's  eye  watches 
our  scattered  family,  unknown  to  men,  yet  the 
only  thing  amoi]gst  men  on  Vv'hicli  the  heart  of 
God  can  rest.  Before  Him  that  scattered  family 
is  one ;  the  living  stream  which  unites  them  is 
the  truth,  Thei-e  is  no  unity  in  God's  sight,  no 
unity  which  Avill  stand  the  test  of  lire,  but  unity 
in  the  truth.  All  other  unions  are  mere  congeal- 
ings,  freezings  together,  of  heterogeneous  ele- 
ments, which  the  day  will  dissolve.  In  forming 
any  spiritual  confederation  on  any  but  God's 
principle,  you  are  marring  God's  miity,  uniting 
what  He  has  sundered,  and  sundering  what  He 
has  joined  together.  The  only  schism  in  His  sight 
is,  I  believe,  to  make  anything  but  Jesus  the 
centre  and  the  bond  of  union — to  reject  those 
whom  He  receives,  and  to  receive  those  whom 
He  rejects.     From  this  may  He  preserve  us  !" 

But  Rockyzan's  eyes  were  riveted  on  the  fliir 
scene  before  him.     He  "  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and 


OF   BOHEMIA   A.ND   MORA VI A.  103 

beheld  fill  the  plain,  that  it  was  well  Avatered 
everywhere,  as  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  as  the 
land  of  Egypt ;  and  he  chose  him  all  the  plain." 
He  also,  like  One  we  know,  was  taken  up  to  the 
top  of  a  high  raountahi,  and  shown  a  kingdom 
and  its  glory.  But,  unlike  Him,  he  did  not  repel 
the  tempter  with  lowly  dependence  on  Divine 
words.  The  thousand  dewdrops  in  his  eyes 
outshone  the  one  sun,  and  he  said — 

"  I  can  not  join  you  yet :  Bohemia  needs  me. 
1  must  be  Archbishop  of  Prague,  and  from  ray 
throne  on  the  mountains  in  the  centre  of  my 
country,  I  wall  send  forth  messengers  of  the  gospel 
to  every  corner  of  the  land  ;  and  then,  when  all 
Bohemia  is  penetrated  with  the  truth,  as  one  man 
we  will  arise,  and  throw  off  the  yoke  of  Rome  ! 
The  eye  of  the  politician  sees  further  than  that  of 
common  men.  He  who  guides  men  must  move 
slowly."  And  taking  a  hurried  leave  of  Gregory, 
Rockyzan  went  back  to  Prague.  Gregory  visited 
his  brethren  among  the  mountains,  and  then 
returned  to  Litiz.  Their  paths  parted,  only 
crossing  once  afterwards.  The  eye  of  the  politi- 
cian saw  far,  but  the  eye  of  the  Christian  saw 
further,  for  it  saw  through  the  clouds  to  tlie 
heavens.  Few  men  consciously  choose  the  service 
of  Mammon ;  none  unconsciously  serve  God. 


104     SKETCHES   OF   THE    UNITED   BRETHREN 


in. 


Things  followed  the  course  foretold  of  the  dis- 
ciples in  the  last  conversation  our  Lord  held  Avith 
them  before  His  death.  In  the  world  the  little 
faithful  flock  of  Bohemian  Brethren  had  tribula- 
tion ;  but  in  Hira  they  had  peace. 

The  little  church  at  Litiz  grew  in  stature  and 
in  numbers,  and  many  similar  bodies  sprang  up 
in  different  parts  of  Bohemia — quiet,  peaceable 
communities,  whose  sole  bond  was  union  with 
their  Saviour,  whose  sole  object  was  to  minister 
to  all  men  for  His  sake.  Why,  then,  did  all  men 
speak  evil  of  them,  and  all  jDarties  unite  in 
persecuting  them  ?  We  only  know  that  they  did 
so,  and  men  had  done  the  same  before  to  Him  in 
whom  no  fault  could  be  found. 

Rockyzan  retained  his  power  and  place,  and 
his  influence  with  the  King  of  Bohemia  increased. 
For  some  time  he  used  this  influence  cautiously, 
but  constantly,  in  favor  of  the  truth  and  its 
calumniated  confessors.  But  at  length  the  United 
Brethren  Avere  sunuuoned  before  the  Consistory 
at  Prague. 

The  moment  came  when  Rockyzan  could  no 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MORAVIA.  105 

longer  unite  the  two  services.  The  choice  which 
had  been  so  long  unconsciously  made  had  now  to 
be  decisively  acted  on.  It  was  no  longer  prudent 
or  safe  for  him  to  assist  the  Brethren;  he  there- 
fore abandoned  them.  To  excuse  his  own  vacilla- 
tion, l}e  accused  them  of  precipitation  and  tur- 
bulence ;  to  prove  his  sincerity,  he  persecuted 
them.  The  king,  it  is  said,  wavered.  The  earlier 
teaching  of  Rockyzan  himself,  the  convictions  of 
his  own  conscience,  the  blameless  lives  of  those 
he  was  called  upon  to  attack,  weighed  heavily 
upon  him.  But  Rockyzan  was  at  his  sovereign's 
elbow,  to  remind  him  of  his  coronation  oath  to 
extirpate  heresy  ;  to  urge  him  to  save  himself, 
the  more  "  moderate,"  and  the  "  truth,"  by  sac- 
rificing the  "  extreme  party."  ISTone  can  tempt 
like  the  fallen,  and  George  Podiebrad  yielded. 

Thus  Rockyzan  began  with  waiving  his  con- 
victions, in  order  to  gain  influence  to  promote 
them.  He  ended  in  turning  the  influence  thus 
gained  agamst  the  cause  for  Avhich  he  had  per- 
suaded himself  he  sought  it.  The  process  in  his 
mind  was  perfectly  natui\al.  Tlie  first  act  of  im- 
belief,  by  which  he  virtually  said,  "I  will  uphold 
God's  truth  by  disobeying  Him,"  led  logically  to 
all  the  rest.  The  same  question  is  being  daily 
proposed,  in  divers  mannei's,  to  some  amongst  us 
now.  How  are  we  answering  it  ?  Love  is  our 
surest  loijic.     Whom  are  we  loving  best  ? 

The  Church  of  Bohemia  was  called  to  pass 
through   one   of  those  periods   which    will   fill 


106  SKETCHES  OF  THE  U^^TED  BRETHREN 

eternity  with  deathless  memories,  echoing  in 
"  songs  of  deliverance,"  and  in  wailings  of  im- 
pm-ifying  remorse. 

In  the  depth  of  winter  the  sick  were  dragged 
from  their  homes,  and  cast  out  into  the  fields  to 
die.  Some  Avere  seized,  and  sent  back  to  their 
friends  without  hands  or  feet,  maimed  and 
wounded,  as  living  tokens  of  the  fate  which 
awaited  those  who  persevered.  Some  were 
tortured,  and  sent  to  heaven  with  stranw  tidings 
of  the  welcome  which  those  whom  the  Son  of 
God  is  not  ashamed  to  call  "  brethren"  met  with 
on  earth,  dragged  to  death,  burnt  alive,  even 
little  children  burnt  at  the  stake.  And  the  Breth- 
ren of  Bohemia  endured  the  fieiy  trial,  and  multi- 
plied. They  met  together  as  usual  to  read  the 
Word  of  their  God  ;  (how  living  and  significant 
was  every  page  read  by  tlie  firelight  of  persecu- 
tion !)  to  pray,  as  those  pray  wlio  have  no  de- 
fender but  God;  and  to  show  forth  their  Lord's 
death,  as  those  do  who  liave  no  hope  but  His 
coming  again. 

One  evening,  a  body  of  them  had  assembled  in 
a  private  house  in  Prague,  to  pray,  and  to  cele- 
brate the  communion  of  the  body  of  Christ. 
Amongst  them  was  a  venerable  man,  whom  they 
revered  as  a  patriarch.  His  hair  had  grown  gra}', 
his  manly  form  had  acquired  a  slight  stoop,  and 
the  voice  which  pronounced  the  fatherly  benedic- 
tion was  the  tremulous  voice  of  an  old 
man;    but     his    eyes    were     still    bright    with 


o 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MOKAVIA.  107 

an   expression  of  childlike  trust  and  love.      It 
was  Gregory  of  Raserherz. 

They  were  preparing  for  the  distribntion  of 
the  sacred  elements,  when  an  interruption  was 
caused  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  a  messenger, 
who  whispered  something  to  Gregory,  and  then 
as  suddenly  disappeared. 

When  he  had  left,  Gregory  calmly  addressed 
the  congregation.  The  messenger,  he  said,  was 
sent  from  one  of  the  judges,  who  was  a  secret 
friend  of  theirs,  to  entreat  them  to  disperse 
■  instantly,  or  he  himself  would  be  compelled  to 
come  within  a  short  space  of  time  to  arrest  them. 
Gregory  expressed  his  own  conviction  that  they 
should  best  fulfill  the  wish  of  Ilim  who  had  said, 
"  Let  these  go  their  way,"  by  accepting  the 
friendly  Avarning,  and  quietly  dispersing. 

But  there  were  amongst  the  assembly  many 
enthusiastic  young  men,  students  of  the  Univer- 
sity of  Prague,  who  had  embraced  the  oppressed 
cause  with  all  the  cliivalrous  ardor  of  youth — 
men  who,  like  St.  Peter,  had  not  counted  the  cost, 
and  therefore  deemed  their  resources  of  endurance 
and  fidelity  inexhaustible — and  many  of  these 
murmured  openly  against  Gregory's  counsel, 
declaring  that  they  were  ready  to  die  for  the 
truth,  but  would  never  consent  to  such  a  denial 
of  it  as  this  cowardly  flight. 

To  their  nntempered  zeal,  stakes,  racks,  and 
scaffolds  were  as  "  trifles."  Gregory  knew  they 
were  7iot  trifles;  but  the  assembly  was  partly 


108     SKETCHES    OF   THE    UNITEO   BEETHKEN 

"borne  away,  and  partly  silenced,  by  their  en- 
thusiasm, and  he  resolved  to  cast  in  his  lot  with 
them. 

Whilst  they  were  proceeding  to  the  celebration 
of  the  communion,  the  door  opened,  and  the  judge 
appeared,  followed  by  a  band  of  armed  men. 

The  assembly  was  mute,  until  the  voice  of  the 
judge  broke  the  silence  with  the  remarkable 
words — "  It  is  written  that  they  who  will  live 
godly  in  Christ  Jesus  shall  suffer  persecution." 
Then,  with  a  strange  inconsistency,*  suffering 
himself  to  become  the  instrument  of  a  cruelty 
which  he  abhorred,  against  men  whom  he  revered 
and  had  sought  to  rescue,  he  added — 
"  Follow  me  to  prison." 

And  giving  the  word  to  his  followers,  the 
leaders  of  the  assembly  were  forthwith  boiTnd 
and  led  away. 

It  is  said,  that  of  those  who  had  so  confidently 
invited  persecution,  not  one  had  the  courage  to 
endure  it. 


An  assembly  of  priests  and  magistrates,  minis- 
ters of  Christianity  and  of  justice,  were  gathered 
in  a  room  in  the  city  of  Prague,  to  try  whether 

*  This  is  not  the  only  example  of  such  conscious  inconsistency 
(luring  this  struggle.  Lupacius,  a  friend  of  Kockyzan's,  after  desert- 
ing the  United  Brethren,  wrote  them  a  letter  full  of  earnest  exhorta- 
tions to  persevere  in  their  course,  and  wise  advice  as  to  the  best 
method  of  doing  so. 


OF   BOHEMIA.   AND   MOEAVIA.  109 

by  laying  an  old  man  on  the  rack  they  could 
induce  him  to  renounce  the  convictions  of  his 
Avhole  life,  and  betray  his  fellow-believers. 

Gregory  of  Raserherz  and  John  Rockyzau 
met  once  more ;  the  nephew  on  the  rack,  the 
uncle  watchino'  to  see  whether  torture  would 
do  for  Gregory  what  prosperity  had  done  for 
him. 

But  the  high  and  holy  One  Avho  inhabiteth 
eternity  dwelt  with  that  gentle  and  lowly  spirit; 
and  the  sorer  his  enemies  pressed  upon  him,  only 
so  mucii  the  closer  did  they  drive  him  into  the 
sanctuary  of  that  Blessed  Presence. 

They  could  not  succeed  in  wringing  from  Gre- 
gory one  murmur  or  one  word  of  recantation ; 
but  they  did  succeed  in  subduing  his  enfeebled 
frame  v/ith  tlie  extremity  of  pain. 

He  fxintedj  and  lay  for  some  time  uuconcious. 

But  He  wlio  spoke  of  old  to  His  people  in 
visions  came  near  to  Gregory  in  the  cloud. 

As  he  lay  there,  insensible  to  all  around,  he 
saw,  as  in  a  trance,  a  tree  spreading  its  roots 
over  the  earth,  and  its  branches  to  the  heavens. 
It  was  covered  with  delicious  fruit,  and  the  birds 
found  shelter  under  its  branches,  and  ate  of  its 
fruit — filling  the  air  Avith  their  sweet  and  happy 
sono;s.     Three  men  cruarded  this  tree. 

The  dream  was  significant,  and  time  interpreted 
it. 

The'  torturers  believed  their  work  was  done — 
they  thought  him  dead ;  and  for  a  moment 
10 


110     SKETCHES   OP   THE   UNITED   BRETHREN 

Rockyzan's  conscience  awoke,  and  in  an  agony  he 
exclaimed — 

"  O  my  poor  Gregory ! — would  to  God  I  were 
where  thou  art !  " 

But  the  old  man  recovered,  and  after  procuring 
his  release,  Rockyzan,  in  spite  of  a  solemn  reraon- 
strance  from  the  Brethren,  relapsed  into  his  old 
course  of  action. 

They  concluded  their  last  letter  to  him  with 
the  Avords,  "  Thou  art  of  the  Avorld,  and  thou 
wilt  perish  with  the  world  ;"  and  he  revenged 
himself  by  deliberately  exciting  a  fresh  persecu- 
tion against  them. 

I  only  know  of  two  subsequent  events  in  the 
lives  of  Gregory  and  Rockyzan  ;  both  were  con- 
sistent. 

The  United  Brethren  wished  to  give  a  more 
systematic  organization  to  their  community ;  and 
true  to  their  faith  that  the  Lord  Jesus  had  not 
grown  weary  of  guarding  His  Church,  they  met 
together  in  His  presence,  to  seek  His  direction 
in  the  choice  of  their  pastors. 

Seventy  of  them  met  in  a  house  in  the  town 
ofLotha;  men  ofthehiglier  and  lov/er  aristoc- 
racy, burghers  and  ministers  of  the  gospel. 

This  Avas  in  14G7,  fifty-two  years  after  the 
burning  of  John  Huss  at  Constance,  and  fifty-two 
years  before  Luther's  burning  of  the  Papal  bull 
at  Wittenberg. 

After  fasting,  and  reverently  addressing  God 


OF    BOHEMIA   AND   MORAVIA.  Ill 

in  prayei*,  and  listening  to  Him  through  His 
Word,  they  chose  twenty  men,  and  out  of  these 
nine  as  candidates  for  the  sacred  office.  Gregory 
of  Rascrherz,  hitherto  the  Provisional  Elder,  had 
been  the  most  earnest  in  counseling  a  measure 
which  was  to  deprive  him  of  all  his  official 
authority;  and  he  now  oifered  up  a  solemn 
jaetition  that  God  would  choose  their  pastors  for 
them. 

Then,  like  the  primitive  disciples  in  the  choice 
of  a  successor  to  the  fallen  apostle,  (unmindful, 
j)erhaps,  that  this  proceeding  took  place  before 
the  day  of  Pentecost,)  they  left  the  matter  to  the 
decision  of  the  lot.  The  billets  were  drawn 
from  an  urn  by  a  little  child ;  and  the  three  on 
which  the  decisive  word  est  was  written,  fell  to 
the  lot  of  the  three  men  whom,  six  years  before, 
Gregory  had  seen  in  his  vision  on  the  rack 
guarding  the  fruitful  tree.* 

They  Avere  accepted  with  joy  and  gi-atitude, 
and  installed  into  their  office  with  a  hymn  of 
thanksgiving.  They  subsequently  sought  and 
obtained  ordination  from  the  bishop  of  an  an- 
cient Vaudois  colony  in  Austria. 

This  was  the  first  definite  organization  of  the 
Church  of  the  United  Brethren  of  Bohemia  and 
Moravia.  Was  not  this  act  of  joyful  renunciation 
a  beautiful  close  to  our  glimpses  of  such  a  life  as 
Gregory's  ? 

It  is  remarkable  that  these  Austrian  Vaudois, 

*  V.  Best's  "Histoire  de  TEglise  des  Freres." 


112    SKETCHES    OF   THE    UNITED   BRETHREN 

probably  descended  from  tlie  French  Christiana 
dispersed  by  the  persecution  in  the  days  of  St. 
Bernard,  had  scarcely  thus  linked  themselves 
with  the  young  Church  of  Bohemia,  Avhen  they 
themselves  were  crushed  and  scattered  by  an 
exterminating  persecution.  They  laid  their 
hands  on  the  heads  of  their  successors,  and 
blessed  them,  and  then  were  taken  to  their  rest. 

The  last  voice  that  brings  us  tidings  of  John 
Kockyzan  is  from  his  deathbed. 

He  died,  it  is  said,  without  hope. 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND    MORAVIA.  113 


PART  IL 

THE    SEVENTEENTH    CENTUEY. 


MAGDALEN. 

History  will  tell  you  wliat  kings  were  reigning, 
and  what  armies  were  fighting,  in  1619 — what 
subtle  Avebs  of  policy  were  being  spun  in  French 
and  Austrian  cabinets ;  how  all  Germany  was 
quivering  with  excitement  at  the  clever  chess- 
playing  of  the  Union  and  the  League,  and  the 
preparatory  agitations  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War, 
the  hero  around  whom  all  were  to  group,  the 
mighty  and  lowly  Gustavus  Adolphus,  not  having 
yet  appeared ;  she  can  also  tell  you  of  the  solemn 
and  joyous  confederation  which  had  taken  place 
not  long  before  between  Liitherans,  Reformed, 
and  Calixtines,  in  Bohemia,  in  which  even  the 
■  United  Brethren  were  included — thereby  gain- 
ing quite  a  respectable  position  amongst  the 
Bohemian  national  institutions  ; — ^but  of  that  his- 
10* 


114     SKETCHES    OF    THE    UNITED    BRETHREN. 

tory  of  "holy  and  humble  men  of  heart,"  of 
sjDU'itual  conflicts  and  eternal  victories,  which  is 
written  in  heaven,  she  can  tell  you  very  little. 

She  will  lead  you  through  the  steep,  narrow 
streets  of  Prague,  the  most  picturesque,  she 
says,  and  romantic  of  European  cities,  whose 
walls  and  towers  are  dented  with  the  sign-man- 
uals  of  so  many  wars — and  she  will  show  you  the 
mountain  throne  where  the  royalty  of  Bohemia 
sat  for  centuries,  looking  over  her  broad  domain, 
the  Moldau  lying  as  a  faithful  guardian  at  her 
feet,  ready  to  convey  her  behests  whither  she 
would ;  she  will  point  out  to  you  church  after 
church,  sacred  with  the  relics  of  Bohemian  mar- 
tyrs— and  palace  after  palace,  gorgeous  with  the 
pomp  of  Bohemian  nobles;  she  may  even  guide 
you  to  the  portal  of  the  house  of  the  noble  fam- 
ily  Von  Loss,  whose  young  chief  has  been  one 
of  the  Directors  of  the  kingdom,  and  advocates 
of  the  United  Brethren  under  the  Emperor  Ru- 
dolph ;  but  she  can  not  admit  you  within.  Never- 
theless, if  you  please,  we  will  enter. 

It  was  a  grand  old  room,  high  and  long,  more  of 
a  gallery  than  a  hall;  in  the  deepening  twilight, 
with  its  lofty  Gothic  windows,  its  strongly-shad- 
owed pictures  looming  from  tapestried  walls — 
rich  paintings  of  Titian's,  quaint,  hard,  symbolic, 
family  portraits  of  the  Middle  Ages — it  had 
something  of  the  mystic  light  of  a  church ;  yet 
it  was  apparently  the  ordinary  sitting-room  of 
the  family,  for  it  was  full  of  rich,  massive  fux'- 


OF    BOUEMIA    AND    MORAVIA.  115 

niture.  A  fire  blazed  on  the  hearth  at  one  end, 
to  keep  off  the  chill  of  an  evening  in  early  autumn; 
and  near  it  sat  the  young  daughter  of  the  house, 
and  an  old  man  in  the  sober  dress  of  a  Protestant 
minister. 

The  maiden  was  dressed  gracefully,  but  plainly ; 
you  would  scarcely  have  remarked  her  costume, 
had  she  been  introduced  into  your  drawing-i'ooni 
now,  but  for  the  rich  Vandyked  collar  which  has 
become  characteristic  of  tlie  century  of  the  great 
jDortrait-painter.  Nor  am  I  sure  that  you  would 
have  remarked  her  face ;  it  was  not  striking — 
its  beauty  lay  deeper:  had  she  been  the  only 
specimen  of  Bohemian  beauty  Titian  had  seen,  he 
might  probably  not  have  said  that  he  had  seen 
the  ideal  of  a  female  head  at  Prasrue :  vet  its 
poise  on  the  long  throat  was  so  firm  and  grace- 
ful; the  brow,  as  it  lay  bared  by  the  throwing 
back  of  the  long  curls,  was  so  innocent  and  calm ; 
the  eyelids,  and  dark  lashes,  threw  such  a  soft 
shade  on  the  cheek,  and  the  mouth  had  such  a 
happy  smile  on  it  as  she  sat  at  her  easel,  that 
Magdalen  Von  Loss  was  certainly  one  of  those 
works  of  God  on  Avhich  we  may  still  look,  and 
say  thankfully,  "  It  is  vor}'-  good." 

She  laid  down  her  brush  among  the  brillant 
colors  and  tinctures  which  she  liad  been  using-, 
and  bringing  her  work  to  the  old  man,  she  knelt 
before  him,  and  placing  the  i)ainting  on  his 
knee,  playfully  covered  the  book  he  had  been 
reading. 


116     SKETCHES    OF   THE    UNITED   BRETHEEN 

"  Now,  father,"  she  said,  (he  was  not  her 
father,  he  was  a  Moravian  pastor,  called  David 
Jablonsky,  bat  she  and  her  brother  had  acqi.ured 
the  habit  of  callinof  him  so  in  their  infancy,  hav- 
ing  been  left  to  his  guardianship,  and  had  con- 
tinued it  since  from  reverence  to  his  pastoral 
office,  and  his  venerable  and  endearing  character,) 
"now  i3ut  down  that  great  learned  book — it  is 
too  large  to  read  anywhere  but  in  a  pulpit — and 
let  dear  old  John  Huss  enjoy  his  own  thoughts 
a  little,  and  look  at  rae.  I  think  two  hundred 
and  four  years  is  long  enough  for  him  to  have 
been  talking  to  our  incomparable  Czeskau  nation: 
now  it  is  our  turn." 

He  placed  a  mark  in  the  book,  and  let  her  lay 
it  on  a  table  beside  him ;  then  taking  her  drawing 
to  the  window,  he  looked  at  it  for  some  minutes 
in  silence. 

It  was  from  a  hymn-book  of  the  Brethren 
which  she  had  been  illuminating;  the  subject 
was  from  tlie  Te  Deum — 

"  The  noble  army  of  martyrs :  praise  thee." 

At  the  bottom  of  the  page  she  had  sketched  in 
solid  and  sombre  colors  the  martyrdom  of  Ilnss. 
Around  the  stake  Avere  gathered  soldiers  and 
priests,  some  with  countenances  breathing  out 
slaughter,  others,  turning  away  their  heads  in 
compassion  ;  in  the  distance  were  shadowed  forth 
the  forms  of  many  Bohemian  martyrs ;  mothers 
weeping  over  the  innocent  faces  of  their  dead 
children,  widows  over  their  slain  husbands,  young 


or   BOHEIIIA   AND   MORAVIA.  117 

girls  chafing  the  hands  of  old  men  perishing  of 
cold  in  the  snow-fields.  The  face  of  Hnss  was 
tnrned  heavenwards,  illumined  as  if  by  some 
glorious  vision.  The  smoke  from  the  burning- 
fagots  arose  in  blue  wreaths  around  the  text, 
jjarting  at  each  side  to  give  glimpses  of  two  me- 
dallions, and  at  the  top  melting  away  amidst 
sunset  clouds.  In  the  medallions,  in  shadowy 
purples  and  grays,  she  had  sketched  Huss's  Avell- 
known  dream — on  once  side  priests  and  magis- 
trates laboriously  effacing  the  pictures  of  Jesus 
on  the  walls  of  his  chapel  of  Betlilehem — on  the 
other,  angels  restoring  them  in  fairer  colors. 
Above,  in  aerial  transparent  tints,  such  as  bathe 
the  clouds  at  sunset,  was  a  meek,  exulting  band, 
bearing  palms,  and  casting  chaplets  of  victory  at 
the  feet  of  one  whose  form  was  half  shrouded  in 
light,  one  hand  only  coming  distinctly  out  from 
the  glory,  to  crown  the  martyr — and  that  hand 
vi^as  pierced. 

"  I  like  this,  Magda,"  the  old  man  said,  at 
length  ;  "  it  is  the  best  you  have  done." 

Then  passing  to  her  drawing-table,  he  turned 
over  sheet  after  sheet  of  brilliant  illuminations — 
liistorical  sketches,  portraits,  borders  of  arabesque, 
rich  branches  of  brown  and  golden  autumn  leaves, 
ferns  and  mosses,  and  delicate  garlands  of  spring 
flowers. 

"  My  child  !"  lie  exclaimed,  taking  her  liands  in 
his,  "  God  has  given  you  many  gifts — spend  them 
all  for  Him." 


118      SKETCHES    OF   THE    TJXITED    BRETHREN 

She  smiled  :  "  This  is  my  myrrh  and  frankin- 
cense," she  said,  "  which  I  would  lay  at  the  feet 
of  Jesus." 

She  Jvnew  Him,  as  yet,  more  as  the  Divine 
child,  heralded  by  angels,  than  as  the  crucified 
Saviour,  rejected  of  men,  and  dying  for  them. 

Jablonsky  reseated  himself  in  the  ai-m-chair 
by  the  fire,  Magdalen  piled  the  logs  so  as  to 
make  a  eheerfal  blaze,  and  then  seated  herself  on 
a  footstool  at  his  feet. 

"  Now,  father,"  she  said,  clasping  her  hands  on 
his  knees,  "  tell  me  of  our  forefathers." 

A  sunbeam  crept  in  through  the  deep  windows, 
danced  amongst  the  liquid  colors,  and  lit  up  her 
happy,  eager  face,  as  she  looked  up  and  listened 
eagerly  while  David  Jablonsky  went  over  the 
oft-told  but  unwearying  tale  of  the  martj-rs  of 
Constance,  and  their  prophecies  of  better  times  ; 
of  the  dove-like  messengers  sent  out  over  the 
earth  by  the  isolated  Church,  east,  and  w^est,  and 
south,  to  see  if  anywhere  they  could  meet  with 
their  kindred — who  returned,  finding  no  rest  for 
the  soles  of  their  feet ;  of  the  fierce  wars  of  the 
blind  Ziska  and  his  Taborites,  their  valor  and 
their  defeat,  God  not  consecrating  such  weapons; 
of  the  noble  band  of  Christian  heroes  Avhich 
arose  from  the  ruins  of  the  old  cause ;  of  Rocky- 
zan  the  double-minded,  driven  with  many  winds 
and  tossed ;  of  the  single-hearted  Raserherz, 
resting  on  the  rock,  and  his  dream ;  of  the  old 
Austrian  Vaudois,  casting  their  mantle  on  the 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND    BIORAVIA.  119 

youHg  ministers  of  Bohemia,  and  then  being 
borne  aloft  in  chariots  of  flame ;  of  the  Jamnici, 
or  cavern-dwellers,  who  followed  Jesns  into  the 
desert,  hiding  in  dens  -and  caves  of  the  earth, 
reading  Tlis  Word  by  firelight,  stealing  out  at 
night  over  the .  snow  in  search  of  food,  treading 
in  each  other's  footsteps,  the  last  brushing  out 
the  traces  of  the  rest ;  of  one  who  was  offered  a 
year's  respite,  but  preferred  to  die  whilst  his 
heart  was  Avarm,  with  five  of  his  condemned 
brethren ;  of  these  and  countless  others,  beloved 
of  God,  whom  tlie  world  rejected,  and  now  the 
heavens  receive  until  tlie  time  of  the  restitution 
of  all  things. 

The  history  of  the  Churcli  of  Bohemia  Avas  rich 
in  such  treasures ;  some  of  the  sufferers  had  been 
amongst  Magdalen's  own  ancestors;  she  had  been 
fed  with  such  stories  from  her  infancy,  yet  her 
eye  by  turns  moistened  and  kindled,  and  her 
cheek  glowed  as  she  listened.  The  history  was 
ever  fresh  to  her,  for  it  was  true.,  and  its  lieroes 
were  those  ever-living  ones  Avhom  she  hoped  to 
meet,  and  Whose  memories  she  delighted  to  gar- 
land Avith  her  fairest  offerings. 

"And  noAV,"  she  observed,  when  he  ceased, 
"  that  rough  season  of  j^loughing  and  soAving  is 
over,  and  Ave  are  reaping  the  harvest.  If  John 
Huss  could  see  ns  now,  hoAV  his  lieart  Avould 
gloAv !  The  old  chapel  of  Bethlehem  restored  to 
ns,  and  Avise  men  and  princes  filling  it  Avith  their 
offerings    and   thanksgivings;   our   glorious  old 


120     SKETCHES    OF   THE   UNITED   BRETHREN 

brethren's  Church,  no  longer  despised,  but 
honored  of  all  men — admitted  into  the  Consis- 
tory with  Calixtines  and  Lutherans  ;  all  Europe, 
they  say,  resounding  with  praises  of  our  disci- 
pline, all  Bohemia  filled  with  our  churches  and 
Bibles :  has  not  our  God  done  great  things  for 
us?" 

"  We  have  certainly  sought  great  things  for 
o-urselves,"  he  replied,  '  thoughtfully  ;  "  I  have 
little  doubt  John  Huss  woiild  have  rejoiced  could 
he  have  foreseen  these  things ;  but  I  much  doubt 
if  he  would  rejoice  to  see  them  now.  They  have 
such  different  measurements  of  things  in  heaven 
from  ours  on  earth." 

"  But  surely,"  she  said,  "  we  must  thank  God 
when  He  gives  us  rest  and  honor,  and  fills  our 
cup  with  blessings  ?" 

"We  must  eat  and  drink  and  give  thanks, 
Magda,  and  go  on  our  way ;  food  is  given  us  to 
strengthen  us  for  action,  not  that  we  may  take 
our  ease,  eat,  drink,  and  be  merry." 

"  But,"  she  said,  "  surely,  as  our  Father  loves 
us,  He  delights  to  see  us  happy  ?  It  would  not 
please  Him,  when  He  has  spread  a  feast  and 
furnished  a  palace  for  us,  that  wo  should  take 
lodgings  in  a  hut  beside  it,  and  refuse  to  eat 
anything  but  black  bread,  because  the  palace  and 
its  fare  are  too  good  for  us.  Would  not  this  be 
the  mistake  which  you  so  often  told  me  the  monks 
made  ?" 

"  We  must  not  throw  away  God's  gifts,  my 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MOKAVIA.  121 

child,"  said  Jablonsky ;  "  we  must  reverently 
gather  up  the  fragments,  and  use  them.  But  we 
are  stewards,  not  proprietors;  think  ivhat  that 
means;  for  a  steward  to  build  himself  a  palace 
and  buy  himself  jewels  with  liis  lord's  money, 
would  be,  not  only  waste,  but  robbery — robbing 
both  the  master  and  the  servants.  The  monk 
mortifies  himself  that  he  may  live  to  God,  and  he 
foils ;  but  God  quickens  us  that  we  may  die  to 
self.  The  ascetic  renounces  the  earth  that  he  may 
approach  God ;  he  is  mistaken — God  is  nearer  us 
than  anything  we  can  offer  Him,  but  His  presence 
necessarily  extinguishes  our  brightest  glories,  as 
well  as  glorifies  our  meanest  services.  It  estran^fes 
us  from  the  world  far  more  efiectually  to  be  sent 
into  it  (as  Christ  was,  and  all  His  are,)  from  the 
heavenly  places,  than  to  be  toiling  away  from 
earth  to  heaven.  The  sun  puts  out  our  torches 
as  well  as  the  storm,  but  it  extinguishes  them  in 
light." 

"  But  are  we  not  free^  fother  1"  she  asked — 
"  free  both  as  ransomed  captives,  and  as  adopted 
children  ?" 

"  Faith  in  our  redemption  sets  us  free,  Mag- 
dalen," he  replied ;  "  love  to' the  Redeemer  makes 
us  servants  again." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you,"  she  said  impa- 
tiently ;  "do  you  mean  that  the  Emperor  Rudolph 
did  not  do  us  a  service  Avhen  he  granted  us  the 
Jjlajestiits-Briefe  ?  *  that  my  brother  and  the  nobles 

*  Letter  of  grace. 

H 


122        SKETCHES    OF   THE    UNITED   BllETIIEEN 

are  not  right  in  spending  all  tlieir  energies  to  se- 
cure the  establishment  of  our  brethren  ?  that  we 
may  not  rejoice  that  our  Church  is  lionored  in- 
stead of  being  despised  ?  and  that  we  may  wor- 
shi]^  in  our  old  temples  instead  of  in  caves  and 
wildernesses  ?" 

"  Dear  child,"  said  the  old  man,  gently  taking 
her  hand,  "  we  shall  see.  The  glory  of  the 
Church  in  this  age  is  not  to  be  clothed  in  purple 
and  line  linen,  but  to  be  bearing  the  cross  after 
her  Lord,  the  servant  of  all  men  for  His  sake. 
She  is  necessarily  a  paradox  amongst  men ;  her 
laws  are  totally  distinct  from  those  of  the  world, 
as  her  nature  is.  When  she  is  weak  she  is  strong, 
when  she  is  poor  she  is  rich,  when  she  is  despised 
she  is  glorified,  and  this  not  because  w^eakness 
and  poverty  and  reproach  are  in  themselves  good 
things,  but  because,  being  always  really  weak, 
she  is  then  only  truly  strong,  when  the  conscious- 
ness of  Aveakness  leads  her  to  abide  close  to  her 
Lord." 

"  But,"  pursued  Magdalen,  rising  and  stirring 
the  firelogs,  then  going  to  her  easel  and  laying 
her  hand  on  her  beloved  drawings,  "  would  you 
have  me  renounce  these  happy,  beautiful  dreams, 
my  painting  and  books,  and  all  I  delight  in,  and 
strip  my  soul  bare  to  tread  the  Dolorous  Way  ?" 

"I  would  have  you  renounce  nothing,  my 
child,"  replied  Jablonsky;  "what  will  be  the  end 
of  our  heaven-born  life  in  the  resurrection,  is  its 
tendency  now.     The  new  life  must  overwhelm 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MORAVIA.  123 

and  rule  the  old ;  we  must  be  clothed  upon,  not 
unclothed ;  mortality  must  be  swallowed  up  of 
life.  I  believe,  as  at  the  first  opening  of  our 
Christian  life,  so  ever  after,  God  would  have  us 
receive  befoi'e  we  renounce.  I  do  not  mean  that 
you  may  not  have  to  renounce  much  that  is  dear 
to  you,  that  you  must  not  have  perpetually  to  re- 
sist the  evil  nature  which  abides  within  us  till 
death :  you  may  be  called  upon  to  plu*ck  off  the 
right  hand  and  to  pluck  out  the  right  eye — but 
it  is  by  listening  to  His  voice,  and  learning  to 
know  it  well,  and  follow  it,  that  you  will  find 
strength  for  this.  Love  is  the  element  of  Chi-is- 
tian  life,  and  self-sacrifice  is  on  earth  the  element 
of  love.  Simply  ask  Him  to  fill  your  heart  with 
His  love,  and  your  life  with  His  presence,  and 
then  all  that  is  displeasing  to  Him  will  be  ex- 
pelled from  both,  simply  because  there  is  no  room 
for  them.  You  need  not  pluck  ofi"  the  dead 
leaves,  the  young  buds  will  gently  push  them  off 
when  the  spring  comes." 

"  I  need  not,  then,  seek  trial  ?"  she  said. 

"No,"  he  replied,  with  a  smile,  "you  need 
only  seek  faithfulness." 

There  was  a  great  spring  against  the  door,  as 
of  the  forefeet  of  some  large  animal.  Magdalen 
ran  to  open  it,  and  was  nearly  thrown  doAvn  by 
the  rough  embraces  of  old  Rudolph,  her  brother's 
favorite  stag-hound.  "Down,  Rudolph,  down!" 
Ills  master  exclaimed ;  and  kissing  his  sister,  he 
advanced  with  his  arm  round  her  into  the  room. 


124     SKETCHES   OF  THE    UNITED   BRETHREN 

He  was  many  years  older  than  Magdalen, 
though  still  young.  "  Magda !  Herr  Pastor  !  " 
he  exclaimed,  shaking  Jablonsky's  hand,  "  give 
me  joy ;  I  have  the  best  news  for  you :  Ave  have 
succeeded  at  length,  the  states  are  unanimous, 
we  have  cast  off"  our  allegiance  to  the  traitor 
Ferdinand,  and  offered  the  crown  of  Bohemia  to 
Frederic  Coimt  Palatine  of  the  Rhine ;  he  has 
accepted  it,  and  will  be  here  in  a  few  Aveeks. 
Our  armies  are  united  with  tliose  of  Bethlen 
Gabor  from  Transylvania  and  Hungary  before 
Vienna ;  Ferdinand  and  his  priests  are  trembling 
in  his  palace,  the  emperor  has  not  a  firm  place  to 
set  his  foot  on  in  all  his  dominions.  Our  cause 
is  the  cause  of  heaven  ;  in  a  fow  months  our 
Bohemian  Church  shall  be  the  Queen  of  Prot- 
estant Germany." 

"And  our  Queen,  the  lady  Elizabeth  of  Eng- 
land !  "  exclaimed  Magdalen,  chipping  her  hands; 
"they  say  she  is  the  noblest  and  most  beautiful 
lady  in  Europe !  " 

"We  shall  see  that,"  rejoined  her  brother, 
laughing,  "  when  our  little  Magdalen  stands  by 
her  side  bearing  her  coronation  robes." 

Magdalen  colored,  and  Henry  Otho  took  up 
her  sketch  of  Huss's  martyrdom  from  the  table. 

"  This  is  good,  Magda,"  he  said,  "  as  far  as  it 
goes,  but  we  will  have  another  class  of  confes- 
sors of  Christ  now  :  men  Avith  strong  arms  and 
brave  hearts,  ready  to  do  and  dare  all  for  the 
right,     ^hy  have  you  left  old  Ziska  out  of  your 


OiP   BOHEMIA   AND   MOEAVIA.  125 

army  of  martyrs  ?  "  he  continued,  pausing  before 
a  portrait  of  the  one-eyed  warrior,  and  gazing  on 
the  wild,  energetic  countenance,  the  deep  furrow 
down  the  brow — the  stamp,  they  say,  of  military 
genius — the  stern  features  ht  up  to  a  fiercer  glow 
by  the  flickering  of  the  fire-light. 

Jablonsky  laid  his  hand  on  tlie  youngs  man's 
shoulder  as  he  stood  thus,  and  said  earnestly — 

"  I  know  you  will  deem  my  warning  the  mere 
querulous  timidity  of  an  old  man  ;  but  once  more, 
before  you  plunge  Bohemia  in  civil  war,  I  entreat 
you  to  remember  to  what  Ziska's  victories  led. 
God  bears  with  the  world,  but  He  judges  His 
Church.  He  will  not  sufier  her  to  prosper  in 
disobedience  to  Him ;  and  can  it  be  obedience 
to  resist  your  sovereign,  and  to  return  evil  for 
evil  ?  " 

"Father,"  said  the  Count,  respectfully  but  im- 
patiently, "  tlie  die  is  cast,  we  must  now  await 
the  issue  ;  to  advance  may  have  been  rash,  to  re- 
treat is  impossible." 

"It  is  never  impossible,"  the  old  man  replied, 
opening  the  door,  "to  refuse  to  do  Avrong;"  and 
with  these  words  he  left  the  room. 

"Endurance  is  always  beautiful  in  women," 
exclaimed  Henry  Otho,  pushing  the  fire-logs  to- 
gether with  his  foot,  "but  only  the  last  resource 
for  men.  Besides,  we  are  not  fighting  for  our 
religion,  we  are  simply  preventing  the  emperor 
from  committing  a  thousand  crimes.  It  may 
not  be  lawful  to  avenge  ourselves;  but  what  law 


126       SKETCHES    OF    THE    UNITED    BEETHEEN 

can  withhold  us  fi-om  binding  the  avms  of  a  mad- 
man ?" 

The  brother  and  sister  sat  up  until  late,  dwell- 
ing on  the  glorious  future  which  lay  before 
Bohemia  and  the  truth. 

Jablonsky  also  watched  imtil  a  late  hour  that 
night,  alone,  with  his  Saviour,  entreating  with 
tears  and  agony  of  heart  that,  if  possible,  the 
cup  of  retribution  might  this  time  pass  from  his 
people,  that  the  disciples  who  took  the  sword 
might  this  once  not  perish  with  the  sword. 

"  They  are  blind,"  he  pleaded,  "  but  they  mean 
to  serve  Thee.  Oh,  forgive  the  error,  and  re- 
ward the  intention !  or,  if  Ave  must  suffer,  may 
our  sorrows  teach  us  and  glorify  Thee!  and 
carry  Thou  Thy  lambs  in  Thy  bosom !  " 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MORAVIA.  127 


II. 

THE  CORONATION. 

All  Prague  was  full  of  music  and  splendor. 

Pastor  Jablonsky  sat  in  his  study,  thinking  of 
his  Sunday's  sermon  which  he  was  to  preach  in 
IIuss's  old  chapel  of  Bethlehem,  when  Henry 
Otho  entered  the  room,  leading  his  sister  in  her 
court  dress. 

A  robe  of  blue  velvet  with  ermine  borders 
fitted  tightly  around  her  form  and  fell  in  dark 
massive  folds  from  a  girdle  clasped  with  j^earls. 
Her  only  ornament  was  her  coronet,  from  which 
her  brown  hair  fell  in  rich  clusters. 

"  Magda  is  frightened  at  the  idea  of  encoun- 
tering all  the  strange  eyes,  Herr  Pastor,"  said 
her  brother,  "  you  must  reassure  her." 

"  It  is  a  solemn  thing,  is  it  not,  father,"  said 
Magdalen,  "  the  crowning  and  anointing  of  our 
king  and  queen  before  God  ?  "  And,  kneeling 
before  him,  she  added,  "  Give  me  your  blessing." 

He  laid  his  hands  on  her  head,  and  blessed  her, 
and  she  went  out  with  a  glad  heart. 

The  old  man's  thoughts  went  back  to  the  time 


128  SKETCHES  OF  THE  U^^ITED  BBETHEEN 

when  her  mother  had  come  into  his  study,  dressed 
just  as  she  was,  and  had  begged  him  to  take 
charge  of  her  httle  Magda  while  she  was  at  the 
Emperor  Kudolph's  court ;  and  he  left  the  house 
to  follow  the  orphan  maiden. 

He  saw  her  step  into  the  family  state  coach, 
formed  like  an  open  van,  but  gorgeously  painted 
and  embossed  with  gold — not  forgetting,  in  her 
pomp  and  excitement,  to  thank  the  attendants  for 
every  little  service — her  brother  on  horseback 
beside  the  carriage,  proudly  guarding  her. 

Every  one  was  in  the  streets  that  day  in 
Prau'ue:  the  winter  sun  shone  brilliautlv  in  honor 
of  the  "winter  king;"'"  and  flags  of  many  col- 
ors, with  triumphant  inscriptions,  flaunted  from 
house  to  house.  The  Moldau  was  crowded  with 
boats  full  of  peasants  in  holiday  attire;  the  Scla- 
vonian  youths  and  maidens  thronged  into  every 
gate,  singing  old  Czeskan  national  songs;  regi- 
ments of  Bohemian  inflxntry  marched  up  the 
streets,  with  spoils  from  the  suburbs  of  Vienna, 
followed  by  the  enthusiastic  cheers  of  the  people ; 
troops  of  Hungarian  and  Transylvanian  cavalry 
pranced  on  with  their  wild  eastern  music.  The 
city  was  full  of  happy  stir  and  bustle  and  life,  the 
tramp  of  infantry  and  the  prancing  of  horsemen, 
shouts  of  joyous  voices,  thrilling  bursts  of  military 
music,  grand  pealings  of  old  church  hymns, 
resounding  through  the  narrow  streets,  caught  up 


*  The  name  commonly  given  to  the  Palatine,  Frederic,  in  Bo- 
hemia. 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MORAVIA.  129 

from  hill  to  hill,  from  the  Vissehrad  to  the  Hrad- 
shin,  and  floating  down  the  Moldaii  to  the 
plain. 

As  the  old  pastor  moved  through  the  throng, 
his  pulse  beat  quick  with  the  common  enthusiasm ; 
and  he  thought,  "If  men's  hearts  bound  so  high 
to  greet  an  earthly  sovereign,  what  will  it  be 
■when  the  Ancient  Nation  and  the  whole  earth 
shall  go  forth  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  on 
their  heads,  to  meet  the  King  of  kings,  no  stranger 
to  Ilis  redeemed,  singing,  'Blessed  is  he  who 
Cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  ?  '  " 

In  the  evening,  the  brother  and  sister  came  to 
him  apart,  to  tell  him  of  the  day's  events. 

Henry  Otho  related  how  Magdalen  had  out- 
shone the  queen  herself  in  beauty  and  grace ;  how 
many  eyes  had  rested  on  her,  how  many  lips  had 
murmured  praises  of  her  simj^le  grace,  and  how 
the  queen  herself  hat  addressed  gracious  words 
to  her,  saying  that  her  court  must  not  be  without 
such  an  ornament;  and  then  he  spoke  of  the 
enthusiastic  reception  of  the  new  sovereign. 

"And  now,"  he  added,  "  we  are  a  nation  again 
at  last ;  vre  have  a  Bohemian  king,  a  Bohemian 
court,  a  Bohemian  Diet,  a  Bohemian  people,  and 
a  Bohemian  Church." 

And  Magdalen  came  afterwards,  and  told  how 
in  all  the  assembly  there  had  been  none  so  noble 
and  manly  as  her  own  brother,  and  the  queen  had 
mentioned  him  to  her,  "  the  dear,  beautiful,  good 
queen." 


130       SKETCHES    OF   THE    UXITED   BRETHREN 

"  Oh,  father !  "  she  said,  "  she  is  so  gracious 
and  geutle — I  could  love  her  as  a  mother — and 
yet  so  noble  and  queenly,  my  whole  heart  bowed 
before  her ;  and  when  the  people  cried  '  God  bless 
her ! '  I  could  not  help  weeping,  and  praying 
that  no  harm  may  ever  touch  that  royal  heart." 

"See,  Magda,"  he  replied,  "all  these  sacred 
and  blessed  relationships  has  God  given  us  to 
bind  us  in  hapi>y  subjection  to  one  another.  Great 
is  the  peace  of  those  with  whom  all  these  relation- 
ships are  as  links  to  Him — all  centred  in  Him ; 
great  shall  be  the  jDcace  of  the  earth  when  this 
shall  be  the  manifest  law  of  all." 

She  looked  earnestly  in  his  face  for  an  instant, 
then,  kissing  his  forehead,  she  glided  from  the 
room. 

Then  returning  and  holding  the  door  in  her 
hand,  she  said — 

"  Why  was  it  that  the  rich,  magnificent  cho- 
ruses which  filled  the  old  cathedral  Avhen  they 
crowned  our  king  and  queen  seemed  to  bear  me 
with  inexpressible  longings  to  the  very  gates  of 
heaven,  yet  left  me  still  longing  outside,  Avhilst, 
when  we  sing  our  quiet  hymns  together  in  church, 
all  the  heavens  seem  opened,  and  I  lie  as  nothing 
beneath  and  amidst  their  glory,  yet  happy 
as  a  happy  child  ?" 

"Is  it  not  ever  so?"  the  old  man  answered: 
"  the  pomp  of  man's  religion  only  expands  the 
soul  in  vague  emotions,  as  if  it  Avere  the  Infinite, 
and  leaves  it  empty.     God's  religion  brings  down 


OP   BOHEBIIA   AND   MORAVIA.  131 

the  Infinite  into  the  soul,  and  ^fjJJs  it.  Let  your 
heart  be  but  as  a.  flower  meekly  opened  to  the 
sky  with  all  its  stars,  and  the  heavens  shall  drop 
dew  into  it,  and  the  dead  earth  shall  distil  living 
sap  into  it.  Only  keep  your  soul  lifted  up,  and 
God  will  take  care  that  it  shall  grow." 


132     SKETCHES   OF   THE   UNITED   BRETHEEN 


III. 

THE  INCORRUPTIBLE  INHERITANCE. 

It  was  a  crisp,  bright  spring  morning  in  1620. 

David  Jablonsky  and  Magdalen  von  Loss  were 
prolonging  their  walk  on  their  return  from  one  of 
those  invigorating  early  morning  services  of 
which  the  Moravian  Brethren  were  so  fond,  Henry 
Otho  being  absent  with  the  staff  of  Frederic's 
arm)\ 

They  had  mounted  to  the  top  of  the  Vissehrad. 
Down  its  precipitous  side  they  looked  on  the 
river,  the  low  golden  sunbeams  crisping  the  sides 
of  a  hundred  masts,  sparkling  in  a  thousand  rip- 
ples, glittering  capricionsly,  thi-ough  the  morning 
mist,  on  roof  and  spire  and  tree  along  the  valley 
of  the  Moldau,  and  in  the  distance  clothing  with 
delicate  saffron  and  violet  tints  the  woods  and  the 
tops  of  the  hills ;  whilst  the  clouds  were  as  bird- 
of-paradisc  plumes,  fresh  rose-leaves,  pearly  shells, 
scattered  at  random  from  God's  treasure-cham- 
bers,  and  all — the  colors  of  the  clouds,  and  sky, 
and  hills,  the  laughter  of  children  from  the  city, 
the  songs  of  birds — all  fresh,  and  delicate,  and 
pure,  and  light,  as  the  soft  fragrance  of  the  bud- 
ding earth  which  wrapt  their  senses  imperceptibly 
as  in  a  delicious  dream. 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MORAVIA.  133 

On  the  other  side  lay  Pragne,  the  city  of  their 
fathers ;  church,  and  palace  roofs,  and  gilded  pin- 
nacles, and  white  walls  shining  with  sharp  edges 
of  light;  the  old  Bohemian  cathedral  on  the 
Hradshin  crowning  all  the  city. 

"  And  all,  all,"  said  Magdalen,  softly,  "  Avork- 
ing  together  for  good;  all  the  ministers  of  life 
and  love!  Oh,  happy  earth,  with  God  shining 
on  it,  and  happy,  happy  creatures  we,  to  live  on 
it,  beloved  of  Him ! " 

"  You  hath  lie  reconciled,"  murmured  the  old 
man ;  "  all  power  is  given  to  Him  in  heaven  and  in 
earth,  and  in  the  fulness  of  times  all  things  shall 
be  gathered  together  in  Him." 

Then,  after  some  minutes  of  happy  silence,  she 
said,  as  they  descended  the  hill — 

"  What  hinders  the  world  from  being  Eden 
still  to  hearts  redeemed  and  set  free,  and  at  peace 
with  God  ?  " 

"  His  presence  does  indeed  make  a  temple  and 
an  Eden  about  the  faithful  heart  here,"  he  re- 
plied, "as  it  will  make  heaven  hereafter ;  but, 
dear  child,  this  earth  is  not  all  Eden,  not  Eden 
for  all,  for  there  are  on  it  dead  souls  turned  away 
from  the  light  of  God — thousands  who  sin  with- 
out repentance  and  suifer  without  being  chas- 
tened. For  millions  on  it,  Magda,  this  world  is 
an  hospital,  and  a  charnel-house,  a  place  of  sin 
and  pain ;  there  are  men  to  whom  the  morning  for 
which  wo  watch  shall  come  as  a  sudden  destruc- 
tion, and  a  terrific  close  of  life  and  hope  for  ever." 
12 


134     SKETCHES    OF   THE    UNITED   BRETHREN 

"  But  that  can  be  no  cause,"  she  said,  shudder- 
ing, "  why  those  Avho  love  God,  knowing  His 
great  love,  should  not  let  some  songs  of  joy 
ascend  to  greet  Him  from  His  fallen  creation  ?  " 

"  It  can  be  no  cause  why  we  should  not  be 
thankful ;  but  it  is  abundant  reason  why  w'e 
should  not  sit  still  and  dream,  painting  fairy  vis- 
ions on  the  darkness,"  he  rejoined.  "  In  Him  we 
are  indeed 'commanded  to  rejoice  always.  His 
love  to  us,  and  the  iinion  of  the  believing  heart 
to  Him,  can  not  be  more  perfect  than  at  the  first 
moment  wlicn,  in  faith,  Ave  touch  but  the  hem  of 
His  garment;  our  life  is  eternal,  and  'hidden' 
above  all  storms,  and  therefore  our  peace  is  in 
its  nature  absolute  and  imchangeable  as  the  peace 
of  heaven.  To  dwell  in  the  sense  of  this  is  our 
strength ;  such  holy,  reasonable  joy  is,  in  itself, 
service.  The  very  presence  of  a  heart  so  mani- 
festly at  peace  with  God  and  all  He  sends,  is  a 
gospel." 

"Then  why  speak  of  this  beautiful  earth  so 
often  as  a  mere  wilderness  to  be  passed  through  ?" 
she  exclaimed:  "I  feel  so  at  home  here;  and 
would  not  God  have  us  feel  so,  while  we  re- 
main ?  " 

"Magda,"he  replied,  gently,  "it  is  most  im- 
portant that  our  peace  should  rest  on  objective 
realities,  not  on  inward  emotions.  Truth  is 
always  the  happiest  thing  to  believe  in  the  end  : 
for  the  storm  comes  to  all,  and  truth  is  the  only 
thing  that  stands  it.      Now,  Avhen   God   said, 


OF   B0HE5IIA    AND    MOEAVIA.  135 

'  This  is  not  our  rest.'  He  meant  what  He  said  ; 
yet  surely  He  did  not  mean  this  for  ill  news,  but 
for  the  gladdest  tidings  men  can  hear.  We  have 
a  '  beder  country,' — a  city  that  hcdh  foundations  ; 
and  Ave  are  hastening  home,  not  empty-handed, 
but  with  hands  and  heart  full  of  His  gifts,  to 
minister  to  all,  as  we  journey,  and  with  lips  over- 
flowing with  His  blessed  invitations.  And  ever 
as  we  go,  the  Great  Comforter  is  fashioning  in 
our  hearts,  through,  fire  and  flood,  the  graces 
which  are  of  great  price  in  the  sight  of  our 
Lord." 

"You  will  forgive  me,"  she  resumed;  "  I  am 
afraid  I  must  be  very  cold-hearted  ;  but  earth  is 
so  warm  and  familiar  to  me,  with  my  brother 
and  you,  and  so  many  to  love,  that  I  can  not  help 
weeping  sometimes,  when  I  think  of  leaving  it. 
I  am  not  weary  of  life,  you  know,  and  I  do  not 
need  sleep  or  rest ;  and  the  grave  is  so  lonely, 
and  the  heavens,  with  the  spirits  and  their  im- 
wearying  harps  and  songs — we  knoAV  so  httle' 
about  them." 

"  Dear  Magda,"  he  said,  "  God  will  teach  you 
all  His  lessons  in  His  own  time ;  but  have  you 
forgotten  the  Resurrection?  Look  beyond  the 
parting  to  the  gathering,  look  on  beyond  the 
dim,  unclothed,  spirit-state  in  which  the  human 
heart  finds  no  resting-place  but  the  '■for  ever  loith 
the  Lord'' — to  that  bright  morning  when  He  who 
once  appeared  to  cheer  a  weeping  woman  who  loved 
Him,  calling  her  'Mary,'  shall  come  again  to 


136     SKETCHES    OF   THE    UNITED   BBETHBEIS" 

breathe  on  us  an  eternal  peace,  and  to  gather 
the  whole  redeemed  family  into  the  Father's 
house.  Then  shall  the  pedestal  of  His  cross  be- 
come the  footstool  of  His  throne — then  shall  the 
earth,  unfettered  and  impregnated  in  the  new 
life,  'give  forth  her  increase,'  an  Eden  in  the 
keeping  of  an  Adam  who  has  endured  tempta- 
tion, and  vanquished  the  tempter — the  second 
Adam,  and  His  heavenly  Eve,  created,  wdiilst  He 
slept,  from  out  His  pierced  side,  bone  of  His 
bone,  flesh  of  His  flesh.  This,  Magdalen,  is  the 
glorious  hope  for  which  w^e  wait ;  no  mere  un- 
clothing of  a  wearied  spirit,  that  it  may  lie  down 
and  rest,  but  the  outpouring  of  the  fulness  of 
life ;  no  mere  selfish  deliverance  from  conflict  and 
IJaiu,  but  the  redemption  of  tlie  whole  Church 
from  all  fetters,  the  emancij^ation  of  the  whole 
creation,  the  day  of  the  triumph  of  our  Lord,  the 
marriage  supper  oftlie  Lamh.^  This  is  the  over- 
whelming joy  v/hich  lies  before  us — for  tliis  the 
whole  family  in  earth  and  heaven  wait — for  this 
result  of  the  travail  of  His  soul,  the  Conqueror 
also  v/aits,  sitting  at  the  right  hand  of  God." 

Much  more  he  said,  which  I  may  not  now  re- 
peat ;  but  as  he  spoke,  tears  gathered  in  Magda- 
len's eyes,  and  she  said — 

"Father!  I  am  but  a  child;  1  have  much  to 


*  I  ilo  not  at  all  mean  to  attribute  these  definite  thoughts  as  to  the 
future  to  the  %vhole  body  of  the  Moravians.  I  believe  there  have 
always  been  individuals  amongst  them  who  have  in  some  measure 
rested  on  them. 


OP    BOHEMIA   AND   BIORAVIA.  137 

learn  ;  these  things  overwhehn  me.  I  seem  step- 
ping into  a  new  and  infinite  world,  and  my  heart 
trembles," 

"Fear  not,  my  cliild,"  he  answered — "God 
teaches  very  patiently.  He  will  take  thee  by 
the  hand,  and  lead  thee  gently  on.  The  Almighty 
One  is  also  the  meek  and  lowly  in  heart ;  He 
gives  Avisdom  liberally  to  all  that  lack  and  ask 
for  it,  and  npbraideth  not." 

Mao-dalen  read  her  Bible  much  that  evening, 
with  a  new  reverence — read  of  the  new  creation, 
commenced  in  the  soul  of  the  feeblest  believer, 
destined  to  find  its  completion  Avhen  v.'e  shall 
awake  in  perfect  likeness  to  tlie  risen  Lord,  and 
its  final  home  in  the  new  birth  from  dissolution 
of  the  new  heavens  and  the  new  earth  ;  and  she 
lay  down  to  sleep  with  the  joyful  consciousness 
that  she  was  a  learner  in  a  school  of  inexhaust- 
ible truth,  having  for  her  teacher  Him  who 
knows  all  things  because  lie  has  made  them, 
knows  the  heights  of  God,  and  the  depths  of  man,, 
by  being  both. 

And  the  morning  found  Him  still  about  her 
path  as  He  had  been  about  her  bed — and  the 
day's  work  shone  to  her  with  the  light  of  her 
eternal  home 


12* 


138     SKETCHES   OF   THE    UNITED   BKETHEEN 


IV. 

THE  BATTLE. 

Magdalen  had  need  of  something  to  strengthen 
her.  She  had  plenty  of  petty  trials  to  prove 
whether  the  new  hopes  which  had  arisen  on  her 
heart  Avere  mere  pictures  of  light — glowing,  but 
opaque — or  transparencies  letting  in  real  light  on 
the  dark  corners  of  life. 

The  affairs  of  Bohemian  Protestantism  looked 
more  and  more  gloomy  every  day. 

Frederic  threw  away  half  his  advantages  by 
mismanagement,  and  let  the  rest  slip  aAvay  by 
his  indolence  and  indecision.  His  generals- were 
jealous  of  each  other;  his  Bohemian  subjects  were 
jealous  of  the  Germans  ;  and  there  was  no  strong 
will,  no  plastic  mind,  to  inould  the  discordant 
elements  into  harmonious  combination.  Men 
who  should  have  supported  one  another  only 
jostled  one  another,  because  there  was  no  one  to 
lix  them  in  their  places;  and  whilst  the  Prot- 
estants were  hesitating  and  quarreling  about 
their  rank  in  the  procession,  the  Emperor  Ferdi- 
nand and  his  Catholics  came  and  stole  away  the 
ark. 


OF   BOHEMIA    AND   MORAVIA.  139 

Henry  Otho  von  LosfJ,  and  othei*  Avise  and  dis- 
interested men  amongst  his  party,  doubtless  saw 
this,  but  they  saw  it  as  the  guardian  angel  is  said 
to  see  the  errors  of  his  charge — with  fruitless 
foresight. 

•  They  labored,  and  entreated,  and  contended, 
but  their  voices  seemed  only  to  serve  to  increase 
the  clamor,  until  at  last  they  had  no  resource  but 
each  to  do  his  own  duty,  and  leave  things  to  ar- 
range themselves  as  they  would. 

All  this  fretted  Henry  Otho's  temper  intoler- 
ably ;  like  a  strong  wave  struggling  against  an 
ebbing  tide,  to  spend  all  his  strength,  only  to  find 
himself  at  each  successive  eifort  further  from  the 
goal,  it  was  very  bitter;  and,  in  addition  to  this 
natural  disappointment,  he  felt  all  that  a  Chris- 
tian feels  who  has  entangled  himself  in  a  thousand 
cares  and  schemes,  and  yet  fears  to  look  straight 
up  to  God,  lest  one  clear  glance  from  Him  should 
pierce  through  all  the  laborious  fabric,  and  smite 
it  to  pieces  in  an  instant.  Not  that  he  was  pre- 
cisely conscious  of  this,  but  he  felt  less  at  home 
with  himself,  and  therefore  hurried  the  more  im- 
petuously on  in  the  path  he  had  chosen. 

Magdalen  had  entered  heart  and  soul  into  all 
her  brother's  schemes  for  liberating  Bohemia  and 
ih'd  truth,  but  she  was  less  involved  in  the  details 
of  tlieir  practical  execution  ;  doubts  of  their  con- 
sistency with  the  calling  of  the  Church  to  lowly 
patience,  and  rendering  good  for  evil,  occasion- 
ally crossed  her  mind,  and  of  late  she  liad  not 


140  SKETCHES  OF  THE  UNITED  BEETHBEN 

sought  to  banish  them,  but  had  simply  asked  for 
more  lis^ht. 

At  first,  in  the  ardor  of  her  new  interest  in 
Divine  truth,  she  had  sought  to  communicate  it 
to  her  brother ;  but  he  grew  first  weary  and  then 
impatient,  so  that  she  ceased  to  speak  to  him  on 
the  subject,  and  endeavored  to  enter  as  much  as 
she  could  into  his  cares. 

But  even  this  did  not  always  please  him :  "  What 
could  women  understand  of  such  things?"  And 
then,  if  she  took  refuge  in  her  painting,  he  would 
say,  "  These  were  no  times  for  such  child's  play." 

At  first  Magdalen  was  surprised  and  indignant 
at  this — she  for  whom  his  watchful  love  had  al- 
ways been  providing  some  new  pleasure;  and 
often  she  was  sorely  perplexed  and  tried;  but  her 
tact  and  gentleness  seldom  failed :  not  that  it  was 
any  great  merit  in  her ;  she  loved  her  brother 
literally  as  herself,  and  often  some  burst  of  re- 
pentant tenderness  would  make  up  to  her  for  a 
thousand  words,  harsher  than  any  he  had  ever 
spoken;  for  the  kindness,  she  knew,  was  meant, 
the  harshness  not. 

She  was  always  ready  to  welcome  him  with 
some  playful  or  loving  word,  or  some  proof  of 
tliought  for  his  comfort ;  thus  working  out  the 
prayers  which,  with  so  many  tears,  she  daily  of- 
fered for  him. 

So  she  was  daily  gaining  wisdom  in  the  lore  of 
life,  the  blessed  art  of  watching  and  ministering 
to  the  sick  at  heart. 


OF  BOHEMIA  AND  MOEAVIA.       141 

God  was  training  her  for  further  lessons. 

He  was  leading  her  consciously  "with  His 
eye,"  teaching  her  with  His  own  voice  the  way 
in  whicli  she  should  go ;  and,  though  with  the 
rougher  lessons  of  external  providence.  He  was 
as  surely  training  and  directing  the  yet  unsub- 
missive heart  of  her  brother. 

And  the  old  pastor  looked  on,  and  helped, 
and  counseled — and  where  he  could  do  neither, 
prayed  for  both  his  children,  thus  laboring  to- 
gether with  God. 


* 


It  was  the  eve  of  the  8th  of  November,  1620, 
the  eve  of  one  of  those  decisive  days  on  which 
centuries  of  a  nation's  destiny  are  suffered  to  de- 
pend. All  Prague,  the  Imperial  and  Bohemian 
armies  encamped  in  its  neighborhood,  all  Bohe- 
mia and  Protestant  and  Catliolic  Germany,  lay 
awaiting  the  issue  of  the  battle  to  be  fought  on 
the  White  Mountains. 

Once  more  Magdalen  von  Loss  and  her  brother 
sat  in  the  old  room,  with  its  family  portraits  and 
tapestry,  its  oaken  cabinets,  and  high,  deep  win- 
dows— chatting  by  the  blazing  hearth. 

Insensibly,  as  the  twilight  deepened,  their  con- 
versation  wandered  off  from  national  prospects 
and  dangers,  to  the  old  days  before  care  had  set 
in  on  them — to  plots  and  ambuscades  concocted 
behind  the  tapestry,  to  tears  shed  over  difficult 


142     SKETCHES    OP   THE    UNITED   BRETHREN 

lessons,  through  which  could  be  seen  no  glimpse 
of  hojDe — bitter  griefs,  forgotten  the  next  day ;  to 
Henry  Otho's  gracious  condescensions,  and  Mag- 
dalen's unlimited  reverence;  quarrels  cemented 
into  indestructible  alliances;  blame  borne  for 
one  another,  and  pleasures  hoarded  up ;  all  the 
world  of  love  and  trust  they  had  been  to  one  an- 
othei- — the  orphan  brother  and  sister. 

They  chatted  merrily  of  it  all,  not  daring  to 
look  forward,  or  to  touch  any  deeper  chords. 

Then  all  the  household  met  in  the  great  hall  to 
commit  themselves  and  one  another  to  the  care  of 
God ;  and  His  peace  came  down  on  them  as  they 
prayed,  so  that  the  young  Count  took  a  hopeful 
leave  of  them  all. 

"Magda,"  he  whispered,  "forget  all  my  cross 
words  :  things  have  gone  wrong  sometimes,  but 
one  way  or  another  God's  cause  must  triumph : 
after  to-morrow  we  will  be  His  happy  and  trust- 
ful  children  again.     Good-bye." 

Magdalen  bore  up  bravely,  only  after  he  was 
gone  Aveeping  and  praying  for  him,  till  she  fell 
asleep  from  Aveariness. 

But  they  were  soft,  childlike  tears,  falling 
through  the  light  of  happy  hopes. 

Henry  Otho  von  Loss  lay  by  one  of  the  Avatch- 
fires  in  the  Protestant  encampment,  on  the  Wliite 
Mountains.  The  country  Avas  gloAving  Avith  the 
feverish  flicker  and  glare  of  many  watchfires, 
gleaming  here  and  there  on  the  forms  and  arms 


OF   BOHEMIA   AWD   MORAVIA.  143 

of  men,  scattered  over  the  ground  in  every  at- 
titude of  hasty  sUimber. 

With  the  exception  of  the  patroles  and  those 
who  had  to  plan  to-morrow's  movements,  the  two 
armies  were  asleep. 

The  night  was  still,  yet  beneath  the  stillness 
there  was  an  undercurrent  of  stir  and  preparation ; 
some  groups  talking  in  hushed  voices,  others 
stealthily  changing  their  position,  the  crackling 
of  iires,  and  the  occasional  challenge  of  sentinels. 

Above,  the  calm  Avas  absolute,  the  moon  pass- 
ing noiselessly  in  and  out  amongst  white  clouds, 
and  all  the  heavens  full  of  her  peaceful  light. 

As  he  lay  there,  musing,  he  saw  a  dark  figure 
approaching  the  height,  which  on  nearer  ap- 
proach he  recognized  to  be  that  of  Jablonsky. 
He  beckoned  the  old  man  to  him,  and  they  sat 
down  together  by  the  fire. 

"  What  brings  you  hither  at  this  hour?" 

"  I  came  to  sec  what  was  the  character  of  an 
army  sworn  to  defend  the  holy  cause." 

"  And  you  found  little  satisfaction  ?  The  camp 
is  a  barren  field  for  missionary  labor — at  least, 
until  after  the  battle." 

"  iVnd  yet  where  is  there  more  need  of  a  life 
hidden  beyond  the  grave  ?" 

"  Did  they  listen  to  your  message  ?"  said  Von 
Loss. 

"  Some  listened  and  some  mocked,  and  some 
turned  away,  and  some  began  to  tell  me  of  Chris- 
tian homes  and  early  childish  lessons,  until  they 


144     SKETCHES    OF   THE    UNITED   BKETHREN 

wept  and  nifide  promises  for  to-morrow.  The 
hearts  of  men  are  the  same  everywhere." 

"  But  did  you  lind  the  men  generally  sanguine 
about  the  issue  of  to-morrow  ?" 

"  To  be  candid  with  you,  I  did  not ;  your 
army,  they  say,  is  so  mixed ;  the  Bohemians 
seem  indignant  at  having  to  fight  under  Ger- 
mans, and  beside  foreigners  from  Hungary  and 
Transylvania,  whom  they  look  on  as  little  better 
than  Turks  and  barbarians." 

"  Father !"  said  the  soldier,  rising  and  standing 
before  him,  "  must  not  the  cause  of  the  Almighty 
triumph  ?" 

"  It  must,  it  shall,"  said  the  old  man,  firmly, 
"  though  not  perhaps  by  the  arms  of  the  mighty. 
Our  banner  of  victory  is  the  cross.  The  cross, 
and  not  the  sword  ;  for  we  also  conquer  by  sacri- 
ficing, not  by  avenging  ourselves.  The  cross, 
and  not  the  crucifix  ;  for  He  who  v.-as  once  nailed 
to  it  noAV  rests  in  triumph,  having  obtained  for 
Himself,  and  for  us,  an  eternal  victory." 

'^I  understand,"  said  Henry  Otho,  in  a  low 
voice  ;  "  but  if,  perchance,  Ave  have  chosen  wrong 
ways  to  His  end,  must  not  His  end  nevertheless 
be  reached,  and  His  cause  prevail  ?" 

"  His  trium})h  is  as  certain  as  His  Godhead," 
replied  Jablonsky,  solemnly;  "living  or  dying, 
vanquished  or  victorious,  we  only  further  His 
supreme  and  blessed  purposes.  He  has  under- 
taken, not  only  to  save  His  people,  but  to  guide 
them,  and  He  will  do  it." 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MORAVIA  145 

"  It  is  well,"  replied  Von  Loss  :  "  whether  my 
earthly  life  serve,  by  being  trampled  into  soil,  to 
nourish  other  lives,  or,  by  spreading  into  a  forest, 
to  shelter  them,  I  can  trust  Him  implicitly  with 
it ;  for  me,  and  for  His  Church,  it  is  well.  My 
blood  may  flow  in  vain,  but  my  Saviour's  can 
not.  Kneel  once  more,  father,  and  pray  for  me, 
for  does  not  His  blood  cleanse  from  all  sin  ?" 

The  old  man  prayed  in  few  and  simple  words, 
for  his  heart  was  full ;  and  then  embracing  Henry 
Otho,  lie  hastened  back  to  Prague. 

On  the  next  day,  the  cause  of  Bohemian  Prot- 
estantism  received  its  death-blow.  The  Bohe- 
mians gave  way  the  last,  but  to  die  at  their  posts 
was  all  their  valor  could  achieve. 

As  the  consequence  of  that  day,  the  pastors 
were  driven  first  from  Prague,  and  then  from 
Bohemia ;  the  churches  were  closed ;  those  who 
could  emigrate,  did ;  those  who  could  not,  kept 
the  faith  in  secret,  or  betrayed  it,  or  were  put  to 
death. 

The  Reformation  was  crushed  in  Bohemia  un- 
til this  day. 


13 


146     SKETCHES    or    THE    UNITED    BRETHREN. 


THE  VICTORY. 

Eight  months  had  passed,  bringing  round  to 
Magdalen  and  her  brother  the  eve  of  another 
battle. 

But  the  issue  of  this  conflict  was  certain,  the 
armor  proof. 

It  was  the  20th  of  June,  1621. 

On  the  morrow,  Henry  Otho  von  Loss,  Avith 
twenty-six  defenders  of  the  Pi-otestant  religion, 
was  to  die  on  the  scaffold. 

They  allowed  Magdalen  to  enter  the  cell,  in 
the  castle  of  Prague,  in  which  her  brother  was 
imprisoned,  and  to  spend  an  hour  with  him  there. 
They  had  been  praying  together,  and  now  they 
sat  quietly  hand  in  hand,  fearing  to  make  those 
last  moments  pass  more  quickly  by  any  move- 
ment or  burst  of  emotion.  The  thousand  frasf- 
ments  and  reminiscences  and  farewells,  which 
that  hour  could  never  have  contained,  were  all 
condensed  into  the  one  prayer — 

"Father,  we  commit  one  another  to  Thee." 

"Tell  Pastor  Jablonsky,"  he  said,  "that  his 


OF   BOHEMIA    AND    SIOEAVIA.  147 

words  are  with  me  to  the  last.  I  am  sure  he 
has  been  praying  for  me,  and  has  been  an- 
SAvered." 

They  had  not  suffered  any  of  the  pastors  of 
the  Bohemian  Brethren  to  visit  the  prisons.  The 
Jesuits  distinguished  them  Avith  this  especial 
hatred. 

"  After  all  my  mistakes,  Magda,"  he  murmured, 
"that  He  should  suffer  me  to  die  for  Him !" 

She  did  not  attempt  to  speak. 

"  Magda,"  he  resumed,  "  my  sister,  you  will 
suffer,  but  trust  His  love ;  it  is  not  charity  or 
kindness,  Magda,  it  is  love — love  deeper  than 
mine.  And,  sister,  do  not  struggle  with  sorrow, 
it  is  of  no  use;  smic  dozen  on  Him.  He  can  heal, 
He  Avill  sustain  you.  And — oh,  do  not  grieve  an 
instant  for  me !     You  are  the  martyr,  not  I." 

She  sank  on  his  shoulder,  and  they  wept  to- 
gether; but  the  step  of  the  jailer  echoed  through 
the  narrow  passage,  and  the  long  embrace  had  to 
be  unclasped. 

Once  more  they  stood  hand  in  hand,  and  Henry 
said,  calmly,  "By  and  by,  my  sister,  after  the 
little  while,  we  shall  have  time  to  say  all  Ave 
Avould." 

"At  His  feet,"  murmured  Magdalen — for  liis 
sake,  Avith  a  strong  effort,  repressing  her  tears. 

They  parted  in  silence. 

IMagdalen  Avent  home  alone.  She  entered  the 
house  Avithout  speaking,  and,  quietly  passing 
through  the  hall  and  up  the  staircase,  she  opened 


148      SKETCHES    OP   THE    UNITED    BRETHREN" 

the  door  of  the  family  sitting-room,  and  softly 
closing  it  again,  she  sat  down  before  her  drawing- 
table,  and  leaned  her  head  upon  her  hands. 

She  was  still  leaning  thus  to  avoid  the  pain  of 
seeing,  when  she  heard  a  soft  step  in  the  room, 
and  looking  up,  she  saw  pastor  Jablonsky  stand- 
ing close  before  her. 

She  was  not  weeping,  but  tears  ran  fast  over 
his  cheeks  as  he  looked  at  her,  and  she  stretched 
out  her  hand  to  him,  and  said  gently — 

"  Life  is  not  so  very  long,  father,  after  all." 

He  could  not  answer,  but  he  sat  down  beside 
her ;  and  folding  her  hands  on  her  knees,  she  said 
no  more. 

She  sat  long  without  moving,  when  a  rough 
head  was  thrust  under  her  hand,  and  in  another 
moment  old  Rudolph's  paws  were  on  her  lap. 

Then  her  tears  fell  fast  on  his  shaggy  head; 
he  looked  wistfully  in  her  face  and  moaned,  and 
licked  her  hands  as  if  to  comfort  her,  until,  hiding 
her  face  on  the  old  man's  arm,  she  wept  bitterly. 

And  Jablonsky  whispered — 

'■'■Now  Jesus  loved  Mary  and  her  sister  and 
Lazarus.'''' 

On  that  evening  the  confessors  were  removed 
to  the  Town  Hall.  The  scaffold  was  already 
erected  before  it ;  and  as  they  passed,  many  of 
their  brethren  and  fellow-prisoners  greeted  them 
from  the  windows  with  hymns,  and  the  people 
thronged  around  them  and  wept.  * 

*  The  following  scene  is  strictly  historical. 


OF   BOHEMIA    AXD   MORAVIA.  149 

On  tlie  morrow,  they  ull  dressed  as  if  for  a 
wedding ;  and  one  by  one,  as  they  were  led  out 
to  execution,  they  cheered  one  another  on  to  the 
combat.     The  farewell  would  not  be  long. 

When  it  came  to  the  turn  of  Henry  Otho  von 
Loss,  a  Lutheran  minister  accompanied  the 
guards.  Von  Loss  had  been  amongst  those  who, 
perhaps,  from  too  fond  an  attachment  to  the 
Church  of  their  fathers,  had  refused  to  receive  the 
Lord's  Supper  from  the  hands  of  a  Lutheran  :  but 
when  he  saw  the  minister,  he  arose  from  his  seat 
as  if  in  a  kind  of  ecstasy,  and  said  to  him — 

"How  I  rejoice  to  see  you,  man  of  God,  that  I 
may  tell  you  what  has  happened  to  me !  I  was 
sitting  in  this  chair,  grieving  bitterly  that  I  could 
not  receive  the  Supper,  having  desired,  as  you 
know,  a  minister  of  our  own  Church.  I  fell  asleep 
in  my  grief:  and  lo,  in  a  dream,  the  Lord  ap- 
peared to  me,  and  said,  '  My  grace  is  sufficient 
for  thee :  I  cleanse  thee  in  My  blood.'  At  the 
same  instant,  I  felt,  as  it  were.  His  blood  flow 
over  my  heart;  and  since  I  awoke,  I  have  felt 
singularly  strengthened  and  refreshed." 

Thereupon  he  broke  into  these  words  of 
triumph — 

"  Yes  ;  believe,  and  thou  hast  eaten  the  flesh  of 
the  Son  of  man.  J  have  no  more  fear  of  death. 
My  Jesus  comes  to  meet  me  with  His  angels,  to 
lead  me  to  His  marriage  supper,  where  I  shall  for 
ever  drink  with  Him  the  cup  of  joy  and  glad- 


ness." 


13* 


150     SKETCHES   OF   THE    UNITED    BRETHREN 

He  ascended  the  scaifold  full  of  joy,  first  pros- 
trating himself  in  prayer,  then  having  risen,  and 
laid  aside  his  garments,  he  again  knelt,  saying, 
"  Lord  Jesus,  receive  me  into  Thy  glory !  "  and 
whilst  he  was  uttering  this  last  word,  he  received 
the  death-blow. 

Thus  did  the  cause  of  external  Protestantism 
in  Bohemia  fail,  and  thus  did  the  Church  of  God 
triumph. 

It  was  night — a  summer's  night ;  and  under  the 
calm  stars  a  funeral  jDrocession  bore  the  body  of 
Henry  Otho  von  Loss  to  his  tomb  amongst  the 
recesses  of  the  hills. 

The  mourners  were  a  band  of  outlawed  Prot- 
estants, yet  they  sang  hymns  as  they  went — 
hymns  of  hope  and  victory — and  the  soft  music 
was  peaceful  as  the  songs  of  angels,  transpiercing 
the  calm. 

One  woman  followed  the  bier,  leaning  on  the 
arm  of  an  old  man.  When  they  reached  tlie  new- 
made  grave,  he  left  her  to  perform  the  last  rites 
over  the  dead,  and  she  stood  a  little  way  off  alone, 
her  hand  resting  on  the  head  of  an  old  stag-hound. 

The  corpse  was  lowered  into  the  grave,  and  the 
earth  fell  on  the  coffin. 

Then  arose  the  beautiful  Moravian  Funeral 
Litany,  *  floating  through  the  silence  with  its 
responsive  music. 

At  first  all  joined — at  least,  all  who  could  for 

*  I  do  not  know  whether  the  Litany,  from  which  the  following 
extracts  are  taken,  existed  so  early  as  this.  It  is  now  used  in  the 
Easter  Morning  Service,  in  the  Moravian  cemeteries, 


THE  SCAFFOLD. 


Tales  and  Sketches. 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MOEAVIA.  151 

weeping,  for  amongst  tlie  mourners  were  many 
fliitbful  old  servants  of  the  family — in  the  hymn, 

"  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  lives  — 

the  eternal  song  of  triumph  of  the  resurrection. 

Then  Pastor  Jablonsky  said — 

"  Glory  to  Ilim  who  is  the  Resurrection  and 
the  Life !  He  hath  been  dead,  but  now  He  liveth 
for  evermore;  and  he  who  believeth  in  Him, 
though  lie  were  dead,  yet  shall  he  live.  To  Him 
be  glory  in  the  Church  which  awaits  His  ap- 
pearing, and  in  that  around  His  throne." 

And  the  assembly  responded — 

"  For  ever  and  ever.     Amen." 

Then  the  minister's  voice  arose  again,  at  first 
feeble  and  broken,  but  gradually  gathering 
strength  from  the  power  of  the  words  he  ut- 
tered:— 

"  Our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
By  Thy  human  birth, 
By  Thy  meritoi-ious  tears, 
By  all  the  miseries  of  Thy  life, 
By  Thy  languor  and  Thy  pains, 
By  the  distress  and  anguish  of  Thy  soul, 
By  Thine  agony  and.  bloody  sweat. 
By  Thine  insults,  stripes,  and  wounds, 
By  Thy  painful  death. 
By  Thy  return  to  us,  or 
By  our  resting  in  Thy  bosom  '' — 

And  Avith  one  voice  the  people  cried — 

"  Comfort  us,  O  Lord  our  God!  " 

Then,  turning  to  the  mourners,  and  especially 
to  her  who  stood  apart,  he  lifted  up  his  hands, 
and  said — 


152       SKETCHES   OF-  THE    UNITED   BRETHREN 

"  The  Lord  bless  thee  aud  keep  thee. 

"  The  Lord  make  His  face  to  shine  upon  thee, 
and  be  gracious  unto  thee. 

"The  Lord  Hfb  up  His  countenance  upon  thee, 
and  give  thee  peace." 

And  all  the  little  band  responded — 

"Li  the  name  of  Jesus.     Amen." 

Then  leaving  the  grave,  Jablonsky  went  again 
to  Magdalen — for  it  Avas  she — and  led  her 
home. 

"  My  child,"  he  said,  trying  in  vain  to  check 
his  own  tears — "  My  child,  God  is  indeed  teach- 
ing thee  the  lessons  of  the  wilderness." 

"  But  He  is  with  me,"  she  replied ;  "  and 
He  teaches  me  also  that  it  is  the  way  to  our 
rest." 

And  the  next  morning,  like  another  Magdalen 
to  another  sepulchre,  whose  oj)ening  has  made 
all  burial-places  for  us  only  sleeping-places,  she 
came  early,  when  it  was  yet  dark,  unto  the 
tomb. 

And  kneeling  on  the  fresh  earth,  she  said  with 
her  whole  heart,  amidst  her  sobs — 

"Master!" 

And  Jesus  said  by  His  Spirit  to  her  heart — 

"  Peace  be  unto  thee !  Go  unto  my  breth- 
ren, and  say  unto  them,  I  ascend  imto  my 
Father  and  your  Father,  unto  my  God  and  your 
God." 

She  and  her  brother  were  His.  His  Father 
>vas  their  Father.     It  was  enough.     She  also  had 


OF   BOHEMIA    AND    MORAVIA-  153 

learned  the  meaning  of  the  words  Death  and 
Resurrection. 

The  Great  Hope  of  the  Church  had  become 
the  great  hope  of  her  heai't. 

She  also  went  forth  in  His  strength,  to  wit- 
ness by  her  life  that  the  Lord  was  risen  in- 
deed. 


154     SKETCHES    OF  THE   UNITED   BRETHREN 


VL 

THE    PEACE. 

Magdalen  never  marriecl.  Without  father  or 
mother,  or  brother  or  sister,  an  exile  from  her 
country,  cut  off  from  all  ties  of  kindred,  she 
passed  the  prime  and  close  of  her  life,  which  was  a 
long  one.  Can  you  conceive  anything  more 
desolate  ? 

In  a  little  cottage  in  the  suburbs  of  Dresden, 
an  old  paralytic  woman  lay  on  a  low  bed.  Every- 
thing about  her  was  scrupulously  clean,  and  a 
young  girl,  having  just  completed  her  arrange- 
ments about  the  room,  was  seated  by  the  fire, 
knitting. 

"  Why  does  not  she  come  ? "  said  the  old 
woman,  querulously.  "  It  is  long  past  her  time  ; 
but  the  strong  and  healthy  never  think  how 
slowly  time  passes  on  the  sick-bed." 

"  O  grandmother,"  said  the  girl,  "  I  am  sure 
she  always  thinks !  The  snow  is  lying  thick  on 
the  ground,  and  every  now  and  then  it  beats  in 
heavy  drifts  against  the  window.  Perhaps  the 
Fraulein  may  not  be  able  to  come  to-night." 
But  the  latch  was  softly  raised  before  she  could 


OF   BOHEMIA    AND    MORAVIA.  155 

finish  her  sentence,  and  the  Fraulein  entered, 
and,  after  a  few  preliminary  inquiries,  took  her 
usual  place  beside  the  old  woman's  bedside,  and 
began  to  read  to  her  from  the  New  Testament, 

It  had  been  rather  a  hopeless  task,  and  if  Mag- 
dalen's eyes  had  not  been  directed  i-ather  to 
Divine  promises  than  to  visible  results,  she  would 
have  grown  weary  of  it  years  before ;  for,  although 
the  old  woman  always  listened  attentively,  and 
was  very  much  aggrieved  if  the  daily  visit  were 
omitted,  she  seldom  vouchsafed  any  more  cheer- 
ing declaration  than — 

"  Well,  all  these  things  are  very  good ;  but 
the  comforts  of  this  hfe  are  very  needful,  and  the 
poor  body  must  be  cared  for." 

But  to-night,  when  she  had  laid  aside  the  book, 
and  had  arisen  from  her  prayer,  and  had  pre- 
sented the  sickly  creature  with  a  warm  shawl  of 
her  own  knitting,  the  old  woman's  heart  seemed 
touched  at  last,  and  grasping  Magdalen's  hand 
tight  for  some  moments  in  her  own,  she  said — 

"  Well  the  comforts  of  this  life  are  very  need- 
ful ;  but  the  Great  Gift  of  God,  and  His  grace  in 
the  heart  are  above  all." 

It  was  reward  enough  for  labors  a  thousand 
times  more  irksome.  Tears  gathered  in  Magda- 
len's eyes,  and  she  went  home  with  a  glad  heart, 
too  happy  to  heed  the  cold,  but  not  too  full  to 
notice  how  the  pure  moonlight  lay  in  silvery 
streaks  on  the  pure,  smooth  snow,  roofing  com- 
mon houses  with    alabaster,  fretting   the   bare 


156       SKETCHES   OF   THE   UNITED   BRETHKEN 

trees  with  fairy  tracery,  and  to  thank  God  from 
her  heart  for  all  the  changing  beauty  of  this  fair 
earth.  Magdalen's  religion  was  no  mere  inward 
emotion :  it  was  a  reception  into  her  inmost  soul 
of  the  truth,  which  is  the  "incorruptible  seed" 
of  the  new  life ;  it  Avas  the  living  relationship  of 
a  redeemed  sinner  to  the  living  God.  Being  re- 
ceived into  the  family,  and  taught  the  freedom 
of  the  child,  she  had  also  been  taught  the  "  per- 
fect freedom  "  of  those  who,  having  no  object  in 
life  but  His  service  who  guides  every  step  of 
their  lives,  labor  under  no  cares,  and  can  meet 
with  no  hindrances. 

Two  little  faces  were  peeping  out  of  the  door 
of  a  house  in  Dresden. 

"  Why  would  she  go  out  this  bitter  weather  ?" 
said  one. 

"  We  will  go  to  meet  her  if  she  does  not  come 
soon,"  said  another. 

But  in  a  few  minutes  they  caught  a  glimpse  of 
her  coming  quickly  up  the  street. 

Joyous  Avelcomes  Averc  on  every  li]?,  laughing 
reproaches,  and  tender,  loving  words,  and  in  a 
fcAV  moments  the  children  had  "  Sister  Magdalen^ 
in  by  a  blazing  Christmas  fire ;  one  chafing  her 
hands,  another  taking  ofl'  her  snowshoes,  a  third 
removing  her  wet  cloak,  a  fourth  bringing  a 
warm  shawl,  and  a  fifth  busy  little  fairy  prej^ar- 
ing  a  basin  of  hot  pottage. 

These  were  all  orphans  of  Bohemian  martyrs, 
to  whose  maintenance  and  education  Magdalen 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MORAVIA.  157 

von  Loss  had  devoted  the  remains  of  her  brother's 
confiscated  fortune  and  her  life. 

Then,  when  she  had  rested,  there  were  narra- 
tives of  the  day's  doings  and  learnings  to  be 
given,  and  counsel  to  be  sought ;  and  in  reward 
for  lessons  well  learnt,  and  tasks  well  done,  came 
the  general  plea  for  a  story  of  old  Bohemia. 

The  firelight  shone  cheerfully  on  the  eager 
child-like  faces,  and  on  the  gray  hair  and  quiet 
happy  eyes  of  the  story-teller.  Then  were  the 
old  heroic  tales  she  had  listened  to  by  the  fire- 
side at  Prague  poured  forth  afresh  into  the  young 
fresh  hearts ; — for  when  will  the  harvest  end,  to 
be  reaped  from  the  seed  of  one  holy  life,  laid 
down  for  the  brethren,  and  laid  up  in  the  book  of 
Church  History  Avritten  in  heaven? 

"  Oh  !"  said  one  of  the  children,  "  we  Avill  be 
more  useful  than  ever,  and  more  like  our  fathers, 
when  this  bitter  frost  is  passed,  and  Ave  can  go 
out  again.  I  Avish  there  Avere  no  such  thing  as 
frost." 

"Do  not  murmur  at  the  frost  and  snow,  dear 
child,"  said  Magdalen,  smoothing  back  the  eager 
little  girl's  hair ;  "  the  fire  never  burns  so  brightly 
as  in  the  frosty  Aveather  :  and  the  snoAV,  you  know, 
is  God's  mantle,  under  which  the  flowers  are  kept 
warm  against  the  spring." 

"  That  is  one  of  Sister  Magdalen's  parables," 
the  children  Avhispered  thoughtfully  to  one  an- 
other. 

The  spring  came.    One  of  Magdalen's  orph.ana 
14 


158      SKETCHES    OF    THE    UNITED    BRETHREN 

was  betrothed  to  the  pastor  of  Lohnien  ;  she  had 
giA^en  the  children  a  holiday  amongst  the  Avild 
beautiful  gorges  of  the  Saxon  Switzerland;  and 
DOW  she  and  the  young  betrothed  stood  alone  on 
the  rough  bridge  which  connected  the  heights  of 
the  Bastei  with  those  on  which  are  the  ruins  of 
the  castle  of  the  robber  knight  of  Thuba. 

On  one  side  of  the  narrow  bridge  they  could 
look  down  into  the  deep  hollow  of  the  Grtinbach- 
thal,  tall  firs  seeming  like  rock-plants  in  the  crev- 
ices of  the  gigantic  perpendicular  Avails  of  rock, 
and  the  deep  green  fields  resting  peacefully  be- 
low. 

But  they  were  turning  in  the  other  direction, 
where,  on  the  left,  the  Elbe  Avound  beneath  the 
heiojhts  of  Konigstein  and  Lilienstein,  flattened 
as  if  for  the  pedestals  of  fortresses ;  and  on  the 
right,  through  Avooded  hills,  to  the  broad  |>lains 
of  Dresden;  whilst  beyond,  the  setting  sun 
glowed  on  the  mountains  which  girded  in  Bohe- 
mia. The  soft  air  was  full  of  light  and  of  the 
fragrance  of  the  floAvers  it  had  opened ;  suoav- 
drops  and  blades  of  grass  trembled  and  shone  in 
the  interstices  of  the  natural  masonry. 

"  How  cclorious  and  Avonderful  all  this  is!"  said 
Magdalen;  "think,  my  child,  Avhat  it  will  be 
AA'hen  every  city  shall  be  a  holy  city,  every  cot- 
tage a  temple  of  God  ;  Avhen  the  grace  of  God 
shall  rest  ou  all  hearts  as  it  now  does  on  all 
nature;  Avhen  the  Church,  from  her  heavenly 
dwelling-place,   Avith  its   ever-open    gates,   shall 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MOKAVIA.  159 

minister  to  men  as  even  angels  never  can ; — help- 
ing as  those  help  who  have  been  tried ;  comfort- 
ing as  those  comfort  who  have  suffered  !" 

"  Did  you  always  love  nature,"  asked  the 
maiden,  "  as  you  do  now  ?" 

"  I  always  loved  her,"  Magdalen  replied,  "  but 
I  think  never  so  much  as  now ;  the  love  of  years 
of  familiar  kindness  is  stronger,  my  child,  than 
the  glow  of  early  feeling.  In  my  youth  my 
thoughts  danced  like  fliiries  in  the  sunbeams, 
often  with  the  glancing  of  their  bright  wings 
hiding  the  deeper  beauty  of  God's  works.  Now 
I  can  look  and  listen,  and  never  tire  of  being  still, 
and  lettuag  the  beautiful  pictures  lie  upon  my 
heart." 

"  But,  Sister  Magdalen,  you  did  not  glide  all 
at  once  into  this  calm  ?" 

"  No.  Thirty  years  ago  all  my  life  was  laid 
waste  and  rent  asunder.  It  was  by  the  grave  of 
ray  only  brother  that  I  learnt  the  calling  of  the 
stranger  traveling  to  the  heavenly  home ;  and  the 
lesson  has  been  worth  the  cost  " 

"  But  is  there  no  way  of  learning  these  lessons 
but  through  suffering  such  as  that  ?  "  asked  the 
bethrothed  bride,  shuddering. 

"  God  has  a  thousand  ways  of  teaching  us,  my 
child,"  she  answered.  "  He  can  teach  by  giving 
as  well  as  by  withholding.  It  is  her  blessedness 
that  best  keeps  the  bride  apart— the  unchange- 
able love  of  her  Lord,  and  her  waiting  for  Him. 
There  is  another  way  of  reaching  the  power  of  His 


160     SKETCHES    OF  THE   UNITED   BRETHREN 

resurrection  than  through  the  grave  of  our  hoj^es. 
The  Lord  Jesus  is  Himself  the  resurrection  and 
the  life ;  as  in  union  with  Him  all  things  are  ours 
to  possess,  so  in  communion  with  Him  all  things 
are  ours  to  use.  By  sitting  at  His  feet  we  may 
learn  a  thousand  lessons,  else  to  be  taught  by 
rougher  voices.     May  He  keep  us  there !" 

"  But  Bohemia  ?"  said  the  girl,  as  she  looked 
towards  the  southern  hills ;  "  do  you  believe  our 
country  is  lost  to  the  gospel  for  ever." 

"  We  do  not  know,  my  child,  w^hat  seeds  are 
ripening  under  the  soil.  Perhaps  our  old  Church 
may  yet  arise  with  a  purified  heart  to  teach  Chris- 
tendom the  great  lesson,  that  with  us  it  is  not  to 
be  as  amongst  the  Gentiles,  '  for  he  that  is  great 
amongst  you,  let  him  be  your  minister ;'  it  is  my 
constant  prayer." 

Thus  sitting  at  His  feet,  and  ministering  to 
Him  in  His  brethren,  her  peaceful  being  shedding 
balm  around  her,  her  whole  womanly  nature  devel- 
oped and  satisfied  by  the  interchange  of  child- 
like dependence  and  motherly  care,  she  passed  on 
to  her  rest.  Can  any  life  be  desolate  with  such 
companionship  and  such  service  ? 

Need  any  Christian  life  be  without  them? 

"  Fear  not,  little  flock." 

"  The  Father  himself  loveth  y  ou." 

"  For  the  Lord  redeemeth  the  souls  of  his  ser- 
vants, and  none  of  them  that  trust  in  him  shall 
be  desolate." 


OF   BOHEMIA   A^'D   MOKAVIA.  161 


PART  III. 

THE   EIGHTEENTH    CENTURY. 


I. 

THE  OLD  MAN'S  PROPHECY. 

The  Reformation,  as  to  external  establishment, 
was  crushed  in  Bohemia,  but  the  living  streams 
were  still  oozing  through  the  land,  and  secretly 
nourishing  the  roots  of  many  jjlants  of  our 
heavenly  Father's  planting. 

Throughout  the  seventeenth  century  we  catch 
accidental  glimpses  of  secret  meetings,  for  receiv- 
ing the  Lord's  Supper,  of  Christian  families ;  of 
one  dying  without  desire  of  extreme  unction, 
being,  he  said,  already  anointed  and  sealed  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  and  as  sure  of  his  salvation  as  of  the 
existence  of  tlie  sun,  yet  in  whose  life  the  j^riest 
could  find  no  fault,  and  in  his  death  only  oc- 
casion for  the  prayer  that  he  also  might  die  the 
death  of  the  righteous.  Lideed,  so  many  of  these 
"hidden  ones"  were  there,  that  when,  in  1716, 
Charles  XII.  of  Sweden  wrung  from  the  emperor 
14* 


162       SKETCHES   OF  THE   UNITED  BKETHEEN 

tolei'ation  for  a  stated  number  of  Protestant 
churches,  70,000  were  found  ready  to  attach 
themselves  to  one  of  them. 

One  evening,  in  the  year  1707,  five  young  men 
were  gathered  around  the  deathbed  of  an  aged 
Christian,  a  descendant  in  spirit,  as  well  as  by 
the  ties  of  natural  kindred,  of  the  ancient  Brethren 
of  Bohemia. 

These  Avere  the  five  Neissers,  nephews  of 
George  Joeshke.  The  calm  of  death  in  the  peace 
of  God  pervaded  the  room.  No  one  spoke.  A 
little  boy  stood  by  the  bedside,  his  hands  clasped 
in  those  of  the  dying  man.  It  was  the  son  of  his 
old  age.  Jceschke  was  about  to  rest  from  a  life 
of  many  labors — faithful  preaching  of  gratuitous 
salvation — faithful  living  in  the  peace  of  the  re- 
conciliation of  Jesus — labors  which  might  have 
seemed  to  be  worse  than  fruitless,  for  tlie  band  of 
the  old  Christians  was  constantly  diminished  by 
death,  whilst  the  numbers  of  the  compromising 
constantly  increased.  But  the  old  man  did  not 
despair;  ho  rested  on  the  promises,  which  rise 
eternally  above  the  storms.  Like  the  Alpine 
hunter,  through  the  clefts  of  the  clouds  he  looked 
down  on  the  woi'ld.  *  lie  conjured  the  young 
men  to  be  faithful  to  the  truth  Avhich  had  made 
them  free. 

"  It  is  true,"  he  said,  "  that  our  liberty  is  de- 
stroyed ;  that  the  greater  part  of  our  children  are 
more  and  more  entangled  in  the  love  of  the  world, 

*Vide  "  SchiUcr's  WilUelm  TeU." 


OF   BOHEMIA   AND   MOKAVIA.  163 

and  fall  oflf  to  the  Papacy ;  that,  from  all  ap- 
pearances,  one  might  say  the  cause  of  the  Brethren 
was  lost.  But,  my  children,  a  great  deliverance 
will  come  for  those  who  remain.  You  Avill  see 
it.  Whether  it  will  take  place  in  Moravia,  or 
you  will  liave  to  leave  this  Babel,  I  know  not. 
I  think,  however,  you  will  have  to  quit  this 
ountry,  in  order  to  find  a  place  where  you  may 
serve  God  according  to  His  Word.  When  the 
hour  comes,  be  ready.  Beware  of  being  amongst 
the  last,  or  of  being  left  entirely  behind.  And 
now,  I  commend  to  you  this  little  one,  my  only 
child.  I  commend  him  especially  to  thee,  Augus- 
tine Neisser.  He  also  must  belong  to  Jesus. 
Lose  not  sight  of  him,  and  it  you  leave  the  country 
take  him  with  you." 

Then,  with  tears,  he  blessed  the  child  and  his 
nephews,  and  not  long  after,  he  rested  in  peace. 

I  know  not  whether  we  should  call  this  confi- 
dence, prophecy,  or  simply  faith.  At  any  rate, 
it  was  abundantly  fulfilled. 


164     SKETCHES   OF   THB    UNITEU   BRETHREN 


II. 

REBUILDING  FROM  THE  RUINS. 

It  was  tlie  15  th  May  1725.  A  company  of  about 
thirty  persons  were  gathered  in  a  marshy  spot, 
on  a  declivity  by  the  highroad  from  Loban  to 
Zittau  in  Saxony. 

All  aromid  them  arose  an  imcleared  forest — 
tall  pines  looking  old  and  sombre  amidst  the  fresh 
green  of  the  budding  forest  trees.  On  a  leveled 
space  amongst  the  bushes  they  were  laying  the 
foundation  of  a  house. 

It  was  a  strangely  assorted  company.  A  Saxon 
nobleman  and  his  bride,  a  young  Swiss  baron, 
with  their  friends ;  and  on  the  other  side,  nine  or 
ten  mechanics  and  peasants,  with  their  families. 
But  the  bond  which  united  them  was  far  more 
real  then  the  distinctions  which  separated  them. 
The  noblemen  were  the  Count  v^on  Zinzendorf 
and  the  Baron  de  Watteville,  to  Avhom  all  their 
property  and  influence  were  as  nothing,  except 
as  a  trust  for  their  Master ;  and  the  mechanics 
were  men  who  had  sufi'ered  imprisonment  and 


OF  BOHEMIA   AND   MORAVIA.  165 

loss  of  fill  things,  and  had  left  country  and  kindred 
for  the  sake  of  Christ  and  His  gospel. 

Amongst  them  were  the  brothers  Neisser  and 
old  George  Jo^schke's  son.  The  Count  sjDoke 
earnestly  and  aflectionately  to  those  present  on 
the  object  of  the  building  they  wei-e  about  to 
erect,  of  the  flxith  which  had  once  made  them 
exiles  and  provided  them  an  asylum. 

"  Rather,"  he  said,  "  than  that  this  building 
should  not  tend  tO  promote  the  glory  of  Him  in 
whose  name  it  was  founded,  might  fire  from 
heaven  consume  it !" 

Before  he  began  to  speak,  five  travelers  came 
along  the  highroad,  way-worn,  and  poorly  clad. 
They  stood  apart,  and  listened  in  reverent  si- 
lence. 

Then  the  Baron  de  Watteville  drew  off  a  ring, 
the  last  jewel  he  had  retained,  and  laying  it  on 
the  foundation-stone,  knelt  there,  and  prayed 
aloud. 

The  power  of  the  Holy  Ghost  overwhelmed 
every  heart  as  he  prayed.  When  he  ceased,  the 
whole  of  the  little  band  were  in  tears.  And  the 
five  strangers  came  forward,  and  said — 

"  Surely  this  is  the  house  of  God  :  here  shall 
our  feet  rest." 

That  house  was  the  first  in  the  settlement  at 
Herrnhut.  The  travelers  Avere  also  exiles  from 
Moravia  for  the  sake  of  tlie  faith.  They  had  es- 
caped from  prisons,  and  across  mountains,  by  de- 
liverances which  would  have  seemed  miraculous, 


166     SKETCHES   OF  THE   UNITED   BRETHREN 

were  not  answers  to  prayer  the  "  daily  bread" 
of  the  disciples.  Amongst  them  Avas  that  David 
Nitschmann,  who  was  afterwards  the  first  mis- 
sionary to  the  West  Indian  slaves,  and  the  first 
bishop  of  the  restored  Church  of  the  Brethren  of 
Bohemia  and  Moravia. 


OF    B0HE2IIA    AXD    MORAVIA.  167 


III. 

SEEDS  BORXE  BY  THE  WINDS. 

In  a  room  in  the  island  of  St.  Thomas,  in  the 
West  Indies,  some  years  after  the  foundation  of 
Herrnhut,  Count  Zinzendorf  was  awaiting  the  ar- 
rival  of  some  prisoners  whose  release  he  had  pro- 
cured with  difficulty  from  the  tyrannical  planters. 
When  they  arrived,  harassed  and  emaciated  by 
three  months  of  imprisonment,  he  saluted  them 
— as  they  used  to  salute  the  early  martyrs — by 
reverently  kissing  their  hands  in  the  presence  of 
their  oppressors. 

These  were  some  of  tlie  exiles  of  Herrnhut, 
men  of  the  old  martyr-race  of  Bohemia. 

A  few  days  after,  you  might  have  seen  the 
Count  conducting  a  service  amongst  some  hun- 
dreds of  slaves,  "  the  Loi-d's  freedmen" — men  in 
whom  love  to  their  Saviour,  and  faith  in  His  love, 
were  strong  enough  to  overbalance  tlie  infliction 
of  bodily  sufferings  such  as  we  shudder  to  hear  of 

After  a  prayer  from  one  of  the  slaves,  he  was 
commencing  his  address  with  the  words  of  one 


168     SKETCHES    OF    THE    UNITED   BUETUiCEX 

of  his  favorite  hymns,  when  snddenly  the  whole 
assembly  broke  out,  in  their  own  language,  into 
the  triumphant  hymn — 

"My  Lord,  my  Lord,  Thou  hast  redeemed  me?" 

Accustomed  as  he  Avas  to  uncontrollable  man- 
ifestations of  feeling  in  the  Moravian  assemblies, 
the  scene  entirely  over  powered  him. 

These  were  some  of  the  converts  of  the  im- 
prisoned missionaries. 


On  one  of  the  Christmas  holidays,  about  thirty 
years  ago,  amidst  the  snovv-y  rocks  and  glitter- 
ing icebergs  of  the  north,  a  company  of  Green- 
landers  were  gathered  around  the  Mission-house 
at  Lichtenfels,  singing  Christian  hymns,  and  ac- 
companying themselves  with  instruments. 

They  were  too  happy  in  the  presence  of  their 
Saviour  to  heed  the  cold,  "  It  was  to  them,"  as 
they  afterwards  said,  '•  as  if  they  already  stood 
before  the  throne  of  the  Lamb,  singing  tlie  new 
song  of  the  redeemed."  And  those  who  listened 
could  not  refrain  from  tears. 

And  within  the  houses  grouped  around  them, 
you  might  have  witnessed  the  sober  and  peaceful 
lives  of  Christian  families,  or  deathbeds  illumined 
by  the  "  sure  and  certain  hope"  of  those  who  de- 
part in  Christ — and  all  knit  together  in  the  im- 
perishable love  of  Christian  brotherhood.  Yet 
not  many  years  before,  these  very  men  had  been 
savages,  wandering  from  place  to  place,  without 


OF    BOHEMIA    AND   MORAVIA.  169 

thought  of  God  or  duty,  with  no  social  bond  but 
the  necessities  of  selfishness — no  hope  beyond 
the  deathbed. 

Patiently  had  the  missionaries  labored  for  this 
end,  enduring  hunger  and  cold,  and  worse  trials 
from  cold  and  hardened  hearts ;  through  fifteen 
years  trusting  to  the  promise  that  they  should 
reap,  when  not  a  sign  of  the  harvest  appeared. 
But  at  length,  after  the  long  polar  winter,  spring 
and  summer  had  burst  on  them  as  it  were  in  a 
night. 

These  were  more  of  the  fruits  of  the  seed 
which  had  so  long  been  buried  and  trampled 
under  the  soil  in  Bohemia. 

If  there  was  need  of  "  long  patience,"  was 
there  not  reward  for  it? 

But  it  would  take  far  too  long  even  to  name 
the  blessings  whicli  were  showered  on  the  colony 
of  Herrnhut,  and  flowed  from  it,  in  those  days 
of  fresh  love  and  life,  when  "  the  multitude  of 
those  that  believed  were  of  one  heart  and  one 
soul,  neither  said  any  of  them  that  aught  of  the 
things  which  they  possessed  was  his  own,  but 
they  had  all  things  in  common."  We,  in  our 
"  majestic  sobriety,"  may  reprehend  such  excesses 
of  zeal  and  love ;  but  they,  in  their  "  gladness 
and  singleness  of  heart,"  would  have  been  far  too 
happy  to  care  about  our  reproaches:  for  "  wich 
great  power"  did  many  amongst  them  bear  wit- 
ness unto  the  resurrection  of  the  Lord,  "and 
great  grace  was  upon  them  all." 
15 


1  1 0      SKETCHES   OF   THE   UNITED   BKETHKEN 

But  one  thing  which  happened  amongst  them 
is,  unhappily,  so  singular  in  the  history  of  relig- 
ious controversies,  that  I  can  not  refrain  from 
mentioning  it : — 

The  infant  community  at  Herrnhut  had  been 
much  disturbed  by  a  certain  controversy  (I  be- 
lieve it  was  about  the  human  nature  of  our 
Lord) :  there  seemed  danger  of  a  violent  rupture 
— but  they  prayed  together,  and  read  the  First 
Epistle  of  St.  John ;  and  such  a  sense  of  their 
blessed  and  eternal  oneness  in  the  Lord  Jesus, 
and  such  a  glow  of  brotherly  love,  were  diffused 
amongst  them,  that  the  schism  was  healed  so  per- 
fectly as  not  even  to  leave  a  scar  behind.  All 
causes  of  division  literally  melted  away,  like  a 
cloud  or  a  snow-drift,  in  the  light  of  Him  Avhose 
manifest  presence  shall  by  and  by  dissolve  all 
ice-bonds  and  ice-barriers  amongst  us  for  ever. 

The  Moravian  Brethren  have  done  little  to- 
wards exj^anding  before  us  new  worlds  of  science 
or  art — towards  cutting  new  vistas  into  the  depths 
of  astronomic  space,  or  geologic  time — but  who 
can  count  the  souls  to  which  they  have  oj^ened 
that  eternal  kingdom  where  all  shall  know  even 
as  they  are  known  ? 

They  have  done  little  for  symbolic  architecture 
and  the  glory  of  beautiful  templeb — but  of  the 
habitations  of  God  which  they  have  built  through 
the  Spirit,  He  only  knows  the  glory  and  the 
number. 

Their  sole  theology  was  JESUS — the  eternal 


OF   BOHEMIA    AND   MORAVIA.  171 

Son  of  God,  the  crucified  and  risen  Son  of  man, 
the  Sacrifice,  the  High  Priest,  the  Universal 
Bishop  of  His  Church ;  the  "Way,  the  Truth,  and 
the  Life. 

The  foundation  of  their  community,  and  their 
boud  of  fellowship,  was  no  system  of  doctrines 
or  Church  government :  it  was  "  Christ  Jesus 
the  Lord  " — "  the  same  yesterday,  and  to-day, 
and  for  ever."  For  any  mistakes  they  may  have 
made  in  carrying  out  a  church  principle  so  catholic 
and  so  divine,  our  weak  nature  is  responsible. 

It  is  possible  that,  fixing  their  eyes  too  exclu- 
sively on  the  dying,  rather  than  on  the  risen, 
Son  of  man — on  the  mtense  but  finished  agony, 
rather  than  on  the  eternal  and  actual  joy  it  has 
purchased,  dwelling  on  His  bodily  suiferings  Avith 
a  prolonged  excitement  of  feeling  which  seems 
hardly  scriptural;  their  piety  may  occasionally 
have  lost  itself  in  religious  sentimentalism  ;  but 
the  love  they  bore  Him  was  no  mere  barren 
emotion  ;  and  the  crosses  they  bore  after  Him 
were  neither  self-imposed  burdens  nor  mere  de- 
votional  ornaments — and  we  may  surely  pardon 
— as  He  who  is  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our 
infirmities  doubtless  has — the  extravagances  of  a 
love  which  braved  polar  Avinters,  and  equinoctial 
summers,  and  long  years  of  seemingly  fruitless 
toil,  for  His  sake. 

With  their  failures   we  have  nothing  to  do, 

except  to  warn  us  how  unwise  we  all  are  when 

*we  abandon  ourselves  to  any  teaching  but  thai 


172     SKETCHES   OF  THE   UNITED   BKETHKEN 

of  the  Word  of  God — or  to  blend  with  our  con- 
fessions when,  as  members  of  the  one  family,  we 
say — "All  we  like  sheep  have  gone  astray;"  but 
the  example  of  their  single-hearted  devotion  and 
brotherly  love  is  ours  to  rejoice  iu,  with  thanks- 
giving for  ever ;  and  the  best  part  of  it  is,  that 
these  things  are  existing  amongst  us  still. 

Now,  whilst  I  Avrite,  two  Moravian  brethren 
are  laboring  Avithin  the  infected  walls  of  a  lazar- 
house  in  Southern  Africa,  having  deliberately 
suifered  themselves  to  be  immured  there  for  life, 
in  order  to  reveal  to  the  wretched  inmates  "  the 
unsearchable  riches  of  Christ."  What  they  are 
now  suffering,  we  know  not — but  we  do  knoAV 
that  when  they  die  there  are  others  ready  to  fill 
their  places.      . 

With  such  a  golden  cloud  of  witnesses,  linking 
the  very  air  we  breathe  with  the  depths  of  the 
inmost  heavens  where  the  first  Martyr  rests  iu 
the  light  which  shone  on  his  dying  eyes,  who 
shall  say  that  the  ages  of  faith  and  love  are  past, 
and  that  the  heart  of  the  Church  is  palsied  and 
grown  chill  ? 

Are  not  fresh  springs  of  life  ever  gushing  forth 
in  our  midst  ?  Is  not  the  very  existence  of  the 
Church  of  God  on  earth  a  perpetual  miracle  ?  Is 
not  a  new  creation  commenced  in  every  soul  to 
which  God  says,  "  Let  there  be  light  ?  "  Does 
not  the  morning  glow  around  every  awakened 
heart? 

Is  not  their  Father  our  Father  ?    Is  not  tl|^ 


OF    BOHEMIA    AND    MOKAVIA.  173 

Lord  Jesus  Christ  the  same  to-day  as  when  yes- 
terday He  said  to  them,  "Follow  thou  Me,"  and, 
"  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee  ?  "  Is  not  the 
Holy  Spirit  still  with  patient  love  and  undimin- 
ished might  gathering  and  chiselling  the  living 
stones  for  the  living  temple  ?  May  we  also  go 
forth  every  morning  refreshed  and  strengthened 
by  draughts  from  the  Well  of  Life  ?  May  not 
we  also  walk  all  day  •'  in  the  light"— thus  having 
fellowship  one  with  another  ?  May  not  we  also 
lie  down  every  evening  with  hearts  and  con- 
sciences "  white  and  clean  "  as  the  robes  of  the 
Blessed  before  the  throne — washed  in  the  same 
*' precious  blood?  " 

And,  oh,  if  our  hearts  thrill  at  the  recital  of 
holy  deeds  done  ages  since,  must  they  not  throb 
with  redoubled  life  at  the  thought  of  such  lives 
flowing  parallel  with  our  own  day  by  day  ? 

The  love  wherewith  we  are  loved  is  as  great, 
the  arm  on  which  we  are  invited  to  lean  is  as 
strong,  the  time  in  which  we  have  to  labor  is  as 
short,  the  eternity  to  which  we  are  hastening — 
and  which  is  hastening  to  us — is  as  long,  the 
position  in  which  we  are  placed  is  the  very  best 
in  all  the  battle-field  our  God  would  choose  for 
us.  There  is  not  a  difficulty  in  our  path  which 
shall  not  be  compelled  to  work  for  us,  if  we  meet 
it  in  communion  with  our  Lord.  Are  we  also 
overcoming  ? 


15* 


NEW    BOOKS. 


Melbourne  HoKSe.    By  the  Author  of  "Th«  wide, 

Wide  World,"  etc.     i  vols.  12mo 

A  most  touching  and  beautiful  Story,  in  which,  through 
the  history  of  a  little  girl,  most  important  truths  are 
taught  in  a  very  interesting  way.  With  most  readers, 
Little  Daisy  of  Melbourne  House  will  be  as  great  a  fa- 
vorite as  Ellen  Montgomery  of  the  "  Wide,Wide  World." 
This  Story  has  all  the  freshness  of  her  first  work. 

Mle7i  Montgomery's  Booh  Shelf,   bj 

the  Autliors  of  the  "  Wide,  Wide  World,"  and  "  Dollars 

and  Cents."    6  vols.  16mo,'  illustrated,  in  a  neat  box, C  00 

The  Volumes  are  also  sold  separately,  as  follows  : 

Mr.  Rutherford's  Children, i  20 

Sybil  and  Chryssa, 120 

Hard  Maple, 120 

Carl  Krinken's  Christmas  Stocking, i  20 

Casper  and  His  Friends, 1  20 

This  interesting  Series  of  Books  has  long  been  out  of 
print,  and  frequently  called  for.  This  new  and  handsome 
edition  will  be  hailed  with  delight  by  youthful  readers 
of  various  ages. 

EgypDs      Princes.         By  the    Eev.  G.  Lansing, 

American  Missionary  at  Cairo,  12mo 1  50 

A  most  interesting  book — giving  life  pictures  of  Egypt 
as  she  now  is.  Equally  well  adapted  for  the  Sabbath 
School  Library,  or  the  Christian  ilresfde. 


NEW    BOOKS    FOR   THE    TOUNG. 


b>6Ci  Dl'ij'tS.    Uy  Mrs.  Georgie  A.  Hulse  McLeod.  16m(X 

illustrated, 1  26 

A  beautiful  religious  Story  of  Boarding-school  life,  the 
scene  of  which  is  bid  near  Newport,  R.  I.  It  is  well 
adapted  for  girls  verging  into  womanhood,  and  will 
prove  alilve  entertaining  and  instructive. 

Hie  IlartyrS  of   Spain^  and  the  Uberators  of 

Holland.    By  the  Author  of  "The  Schonberg-Cotti  fam- 
ily.   ICmo, 125 

It  has  been  well  said,  that  the  charm  of  this  lady's 
writings  consists  in  their  truthful  adherence  to  the  spirit 
and  customs  of  the  olden  time.  We  have  here  those 
qualities  applied  to  Spain  and  Holland.  Few  religious 
writers  are  more  favorably  known  to  the  reading  public, 
than  this  attractive  writer. 


eo 


90 


(xOOd  for  MfVily    and  other  stories.    BjA.  L.  O.E.,    0 

A  series  of  Short  Stones  by  this  eminently  popular  au- 
thor, which  possess  all  the  interest  of  her  longer  stories. 
It  has  six  fine  illustrations. 

Cor  thy  Hall.   ByA.i>.  o.  e o 

Containing  "The  Straight  Road  the  Safest  and  Surest," 
and  the  "  Stories  of  Jewish  History,"— the  first  highly  en- 
tertaining, and  the  second  very  instructive. 

HtWlCtn  OCt'dneSS.    By  countess  de  Gasparln.  ISmo,    0  90 

The  Countess  de  Gasparin's  famous  -work,  "Th«  Near 
and  the  Bc-avenly  Horizons,"  has  rendered  her  name  Cim- 
iliar  to  thj  lovers  of  good  books.  The  present  work  will 
be  found  v/ell  adapted  t9  those  who  are  in  affliction. 


L 


TStmV     liOORS    KOK    the:    VOL'Nrt 


The  jBooJi    of  A.ni'mals.    Witlmumerouanius- 

trations.    Square, 3  90 

A  very  pretty  book  for  cliildreii,  plentifully  illustrated, 
and  abounding  in  interesting  Stories. 

The   ChilcPs  Bltnyan,  or  the  story  of  the  pil- 
grim's Progress  told  for  Little  Children.    18mo, 0  60 

The  Cripjole  of  Antioch.     &y  the  author  of 

the  "  Schonberg-Cotta  Family," $1  25 

A  fascinating  narrative  of  Christian  life  near  the  be- 
ginning of  the  Christian  era.  A  book  which,  when  once 
taken  in  hand,  is  not  easily  laid  aside  till  the  end  is 
reached. 

The  Cedar  ChTistian^  and  other  practical  Papers. 

By  the  Rev.  T.  L.  Cuyler.    16mo 90 

"Genial,  open-hearted  and  fascinating  in  his  style,  both 
spoken  and  written,  Mr.  Cuyler  has  made  for  himself  a 
land- wide  reputation,  and  written  his  name  everywhere 
as  a  h<»usehold  word." — Evangelist. 

Ned'' 8  JSTottO  /  or,  Little  by  LiUla    By  the  author  of 

"  Win  and  Wear,^  &e 1  26 

This  may  be  truly  reckoned  among  first-class  books  for 
the  young.  Ned  is  the  son  of  a  captain  killed  in  this 
war,  who,  though  a  cliild,  manfully  eoiitends  against  the 
pressure  of  want  into  which  the  family  are  brought  by 
the  sad  event;  eacouraged  by  the  cordial  symfiathy  of 
the  neighbors,  and  acting  patiently  on  the  motto: 
"  Little  by  Little." 

MaheVs  T/SJperienCe  /   or,  seeking  and  Finding. 

\%mc 0  »0 

A  japital  SiJotch  story  that  will  delight  all  readers  and 
do  them  good. 


CAItTEKS     UOUK»    H'Oti   THK    YOUNG. 

The  Straiglit  Road  the  Shortest  and  . 

the  Surest     By  A.  L.  0.  E.  45 

Raying  Dear.   By  a.  l.  o.e ogo 

Esther  R arsons.   ByA.L.  o.  e o  eo 

Christian      Conq'lieStS.       a  series  of  stories  l.y 

A.  L.  0.  E.    12  cuts 0  00 

Iry    Jigaifl^    aud  other  stories.    By  A.  L.  O.  E.    12 

engravings 0  90 

The  SiJyver    Casket;   or,    the    Wiles 

of  the  World.    By  A.  L.  0.  E.   8  illustrations 0  90 

/Stories  of  Jewish  Histoj^y.    By  a.  l.  o.  e.  o  eo 
The  Bags  of  Oold^  and  other  Stories. 

ByA.L.  O.E.    6  cuts 0  60 

Falsely  Accused,  and  other  Stories. 

ByA.L.  O.  E.    6  cuts 0  60 

The  Sale    of    Crummie^   and  other 

stories 0  9a 

Maud  Summers,  the  Sightless.    4iiius.  090 

The   Three   Cripples.      By  the  Rev.  p.  B.  Power.    0  75 
The  Last    Shilling.        By  the  Eev.  p.  B.  Power.    0  75 

The  Two  Brotliers  and  the  Two  Raths. 

By  the  Rev;  P.  B.  Power 0  75 


5 


CARTEKS'   BOOKS   FOR   THE   Y0U:NG. 

The    Diamond  Brooch,    mid  oilier 

stories 0  60 

The  Buried  Bible  and  other  Stories.  « eo 

JFaithful     and     True.        By  the  author  of  "win 

and  Wear,  "  Tony  Starr's  Legacy,"  etc.    16mo.    3  ill  us.     1  25 

A  well-told  story  of  Life  on  the  Green  Mountains — full 
of  action  and  interest — fresh,  and  with  an  excellent  moral 
to  it.  The  main  object  of  the  book  is  to  teach  the  impor- 
tance of  being  "  faithful  and  true,"  especially  in  the  little 
things  of  every-day  life. 

The    Safe    Compass    and    how    it 

Points.    By  the^ev.  Richard  Newton,  D.D.    6  illus 125 

Dr.  Newton  is  one  of  the  very  best  writers  of  juvenile 
religious  literature  in  the  land.  lie  seems  to  have  an  in- 
exhaustible fund  of  unexceptionable  stories  and  illustra- 
tions, and  knows  just  how  and  when  to  use  them. 

Claude,    the    Colporteur.     By  the  author  of 

"Mary  Powell,"  etc.    16mo.    8  engravings 125 

A  graphically  told  story  of  youthful  labors,  trials,  and 
6ucccsses.  It  is  a  book  that  will  be  devoured  with 
eagerness  by  the  young  reader. 

The    Post  of   Honor,      a  story  by  the  author  of 

"  Broad  Shadows  on  Life's  Pathway."  l6mo 1  25 

A  well-told  story  of  Missionary  Life,  suffering  and  tri- 
umph— all  founded  on  fact. 

The  Jewish  Tabernacle  and  its  Fiir- 

niture.    By  the  Rev.  Richard  Newton,  D.D.    Illus 175 

Tlie    Old  Helmet.        a  tale  by  the  author  of  "  The 

Wide,  W id 0  World."    2  vols $3  50 


6 


BOOKS  FOR  THE  YOUNG, 

PUBLISHED    liY 

ROBERT  CARTER  &  BROS., 

530  BUOADWAY,  NEW  YORK. 


♦  «  » 


First  Series,  90  cents  each. 


By  A.  L.  O.  E. . 


The  Claremont  Tales. 

Each  tale  illustrates  one  of  the  beatitudes,  "  Blessed  are 
the  poor  in  spirit,"  "  Blessed  are  the  meek,"  &c.  These 
tales,  while  thus  explaining  and  enforcing  special  Scrip- 
ture truths,  are  ingeniously  woven  together,  so  as  to  give 
a  connected  and  interesting  story  of  Mrs.  Claremont's 
children. 

The  Adopted  Son,  cmd  other  Tales. 

By  A.  L.  O.  E 

Three  stories  by  this  gifted  lady — the  first  one  shows 
what  true  bravery  is  ;  the  second  one,  in  a  very  attractive 
way,  illustrates  the  Lord's  Prayer  ;  while  the  last  one 
shows  the  advantages  of  industry  and  perseverance. 

The  Young  Pilgrim.   ByA.L.o.E.  ismo. 

The  story  of  a  boy,  the  reputed  son  of  profligate  parents, 
living  in  a  family  of  professional  beggars,  but  who  turns 
out  to  be  an  earl's  son,  and  finally  succeeds  to  his  title  and 
estate.  The  conversion  of  this  boy  in  the  days  of  his 
humiliation,  and  his  steadfastness  to  the  truth  after  rising 
to  sudden  and  enormous  wealth,  are  well  depicted. 

The  Giant  Killer  and  Sequel.  By 

A.  L.  O.  E.    ISmo 

A  tale  of  real  life  varied  by  a  curious  an.l  successful 
mixture  of  allegory.  The  incidents  of  the  story  are  those 
of  a  family  living  in  a  beautiful  country  home,  the  chap- 
ters of  the  allegory  being  read  to  them  day  by  day,  by  the 
mother,  with  a  view  to  the  correction  of  their  faults,  such 
as  sloth,  selfishness,  untruth,  hate  and  pride. 


carters'  books  for  the  younu. 


Flora  ;  01%  Self-deception.  ByA.L.o.E. 

A  story  of  a  young  lady  who  was  a  member  of  the 
Church,  and  engaged  in  vnrious  active  duties  of  benevo- 
lence, such  as  teaching  in  the  Sabbath-school,  visiting  the 
sick,  and  the  like,  but  who  found,  after  the  more  serious 
duties  of  life  began  to  crowd  upon  her,  that  she  had  de- 
ceived herself,  and  that  she  was  only  a  formalist.  A  book 
for  the  older  girls. 

The  Needle  and  the  Rat.    ByA.L.o.E. 

The  Needle  tells  its  own  history,  both  how  it  was  mndo 
and  into  whose  hands  it  ftll,  embodying  many  pictures 
of  life  that  are  full  of  instruction — while  the  Kat's  adven- 
tures are  such  as  will  interest  all  the  children  and  do 
them  good. 

Eddie  Ullerslie,  and  the  Mine.  By 

A.  L.  O.  E.    ISmo 

An  admirable  little  book  for  young  persons,  in  which 
truth  is  conveyed  to  the  mind  allegorically  and  in  a  very 
attractive  and  fascinating  manner.  The  fair  authoress  has 
kept  in  view  the  motto,  that  "  truth,  like  medicine,  must 
be  adapted  to  the  weak  and  infantine." 

Precepts  in  Practice.  ByA.L.o.E.  ismo. 

Here  are  sixteen  stories,  every  one  based  on  some  text 
in  Proverbs,  and  presenting  a  clear  exhibition  of  a  great 
practical  truth.  Much  skill  is  shown  in  developing  in  an 
easy  and  pleasant  way,  attractive  to  the  young,  great 
principles  for  the  conduct  of  the  life.  If  wo  may  judge 
of  it  from  our  own  impressions,  this  book  will  take  hold 
of  the  reader's  feelings,  and  excite  more  than  common 
interest  iu  these  short  and  simple  tales. 

Idols  in  the  Heart :  a  Tale.  By  a.  l.  o.  e. 

The  story  of  a  gay  worldly  family,  living  in  wealth  and 
fashion.  The  mother  is  dead.  Into  this  family  the  father 
introduces  a  young  wife  and  step-mother,  who  is  a  quiet 
but  earnest  Christian,  and  the  chief  drift  of  the  story  is  to 
show  how  her  religious  character  made  itself  felt  In  these 
circumstances. 

Pride  and  his  Prisoners.  ByA.L.o.E. 

A  story  of  social  life,  introducing  a  great  variety  of 
characters  and  incidents,  the  main  object  of  all  being  to 
Illustrate  the  different  kinds  of  pride  and  the  manner  of 
deliverance  from  it. 


carters'  books  for  the  young. 

The  Christian's  Mmor.  ByA.L.  o.e. 

Philias,  a  young  minister— pnstor  of  a  large  city  church 
— falls  asleep  one  Sabo;ith  evening,  niter  a  hard  day's  ser- 
■vice,  and  in  his  dream  ^isits  a  great  variety  of  different 
charaoters  ;  while  in  his  disembodied  state  he  has  access  to 
them  as  he  could  not  have  otherwise.  Thus  their  most 
hidden  thoughts  and  motives  are  laid  open,  and  thus,  too, 
he  is  enabled  to  sjiealc  to  them  with  a  plainness  which  iu 
other  circumstances  would  not  bo  endured. 

The  Shepherd  of  Bethlehem,  King 

of  Israel.    By  A.  L.  O.  E 

A  poor  curate,  having  received  a  full  and  broken  his  leg, 
was  confined  for  some  weeks  in  humble  lodgings.  Being 
greatly  disturbed  b}'  the  noisy  children  of  the  house  and 
neighborhood,  instead  of  scolding  and  railing  at  them,  ho 
managed  to  allure  them  into  his  apartment  and  enter- 
tained them  with  stories  oi  King  David.  The  life  and 
adventure  of  the  Shepherd  King  of  Israel  are  skillfully 
intermingled  with  the  history  of  these  children  and  neigh- 
bors, so  as  to  make  a  sL«ry  of  remarkable  interest. 


The  Poacher 


ByA.  L.  O.E.... 


Two  stories,  one  of  a  cripple,  who,  like  most  persons  in 
his  condition,  was  irritable,  peevish  and  ill-natuied,  but 
who,  under  the  teachings  of  the  Spirit,  became  a  living 
example  of  "  love,  joy,  peace,"  &c. ;  and  the  other,  the 
story  of  a  young  man  who  had  been  stolen  in  his  infancy 
by  an  enemy  of  his  father's,  and  bred  to  thieving  and 
other  wicked  practices,  but  by  a  singular  train  of  circum- 
stances his  parentage  is  discovered,  and  he  is  reclaimed 
to  a  virtuous  and  religious  life. 


The  Lost  Jeivel. 


By  A.  L.  O.E. 


A  diamond  of  immense  value,  belonging  to  an  Efiglish 
nobleman,  is  lost  by  his  daughter  while  attending  a  ball, 
and  passes  through  the  hands  of  many  persons  who  aro 
ignorant  of  its  value,  each  of  whom  parts  with  it  for 
some  trifling  gratification.  The  object  of  the  story  is  to 
teach  that  each  of  us  is  intrusted  with  a  jewel  far  moro 
precious  than  this  glittering  diamond,  and  that  we  ara 
bartering  our  jewel,  the  soul^ for  t\\ii  most  trifling  baubles. 


Stories  on  the  Parables, 


ByA.  L.  O.  E.. 

A  series  of  twelve  stories,  each  one  illustrating  one  of 
our  Lord's  parables.  They  are  written  in  the  author's 
attractive  style,  and  convey  many  important  lessons  of 
Scrintural  truth. 


9 


carters'  books  for  the  young. 

The  Chiefs  Daughter.   ByA.L.o.E.... 

This  little  book  also  consists  of  two  stories,  the  first  one 
bein?  a  thrilling  account  of  the  first  introduction  of  Chris- 
tianity into  Great  Britain,  and  the  second  delineates  the 
occnpations  and  amusements  of  a  little  family  of  children 
during  the  absence  of  their  mother. 

Ned  Manto7i.   By  a.l.  o.e 

Two  stories.  The  one  shows  the  necessity  of  building 
our  Christian  profession  on  the  true  foundation,  while  the 
other  illustrates  In  a  pleasing  light  the  Christian  virtue  of 
feeling  for  others. 

War  and  Peace  :  a  Story  of  the 

Eetreat  from  Cabul.    By  A.  L.  0.  E 

This  is  an  admirable  story,  founded  on  fact.  It  details 
the  horrors  of  a  winter's  retreat  over  snow  and  ice  of  a 
small  band  of  British  soldiers,  in  which,  though  they  were 
exposed  to  great  privation  and  suffering,  some  of  their 
number  were  yet  enabled  to  experience  that  peace  "  that 
passeth  understanding." 

The  Rohhers    Cave :   a  Storij  of 

Italy.    By  A.  L.  O.  E 

The  Croivn  of  Success  ;   or,  Four 

Heads  to  Furnish.    By  A.  L.  O.  E 

_A  sort  of  story  allegory  illustrative  of  the  Child's  stu- 
dies, their  difficulties  and  encouragements,  in  which  Mr. 
Alphabet — the  Ladder  of  Spelling— Grammar's  Bazaar— 
the  Carpet  of  History,  and  Mr.  Chemistry  plax  a  conspicu- 
ous part. 

The  Rebel  Reclaimed :  a  Tale.  By 

A.L.  O.  E 

Anna  ;  or,  Passages  from  the  Life 

of  a  Daughter  at  Home 

A  story  of  a  young  lady,  a  professing  Christian,  whose 
religion  was  rather  of  a  sentimental  sort,  always  wishing 
to  do  some  great  good,  but  shrinking  from  the  common 
duties  tliat  lay  in  her  path.  Through  the  influence  of  a 
cousin,  she  came  to  understand  this"  matter  better,  gave 
up  her  self-indulgent  habit,  and  became  an  active,  useful 
Cnristian. 


carters'  books  for  the  young. 


Au7it  Edith ;  or,  Love  to  God  the 

Best  Motive 

Aunt  Edith  is  a  maiden  lady  in  Scotland  of  great  excel- 
lence of  character,  to  whom  is  providentially  committed 
the  training  of  two  orphan  families,  one  being  that  of  a 
deceased  sister,  and  the  other  that  of  a  brother  in  India, 
who  has  lost  his  wife.  The  training  of  these  families  in 
truth  and  righteousness,  obedience  and  kindness,  order 
and  neatness,  is  the  staple  of  the  book,  which  is  wrought 
up  with  a  great  variety  of  pleasing  incidents. 

Mabel  Grant :  a  Highland  Story. 

By  Eandall  Ballantyne 

Life   of  Captain    Bate.      By  the   Rev.  John 
Baillie 

The  British  army  has  given  us  such  Christian  heroes  aa 
Hedley  Vicars  and  Havelock.  These  pages  show  how  a 
sailor  as  well  as  soldier,  can  unite  to  personal  valor  the 
meek  and  quiet  spirit  of  a  disciple  of  Christ.  Captain 
Bate  fell  in  a  forlorn  hope  at  the  storming  of  Canton  in 
1858.  His  journal  shows  that,  amid  the  duties  of  his  pro- 
fession, he  never  forgot  that  he  was  a  soldier  of  the  Cross. 

^if^  of  >St.    Augustine.      By  the  Eev.  John 
Baillie 

The  faith  and  patience  of  Monica,  the  mother  of  Augus- 
tine; the  events  of  his  wayward  youth  ;  the  way  in  which 
the  Lord  led  him,  and  the  childlike  beauty  of  his  piety 
when  converted,  give  to  this  little  memoir  a  charm  that 
will  make  it  both  popular  and  useful. 

The  Black  Ship,  and  other  Alle- 
gories and  Parables 

This  Is  an  exquisitely  beautiful  little  book.  Its  tales 
and  parables  are  constructed  with  marvellous  delicacy 
and  skill — they  are  full  of  Subtle  and  delicious  fancy — 
they  are  rich  in  every  line  with  deep  aud  precious  meaning. 

Blind    Lilias  ;     or,    Fellowship 

with  God 

This  is  a  simple  but  beautiful  story  of  sanctified  afflic- 
tion. Little  Lilias,  with  all  the  quick  fancy  and  way- 
wardness of  the  child,  impressible,  impulsive,  and  affec- 
tionate, becomes  blind,  and  under  this  severe  chastening 
her  heart  is  prepared  to  receive  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesns. 


carters'  books  for  the  YOUNtt. 


Blind  Mans  Holiday,   a  series  of  suon 

Stories.    By  the  Author  of  "  Sidney  Grey." 

These  stories  are  intended  by  the  author  to  be  read 
aloud  to  children  of  from  six  to  eight  years  old,  and  are, 
tlicrefore,  written  in  Uvntruajce  suited  to  their  understand- 
ing, and  devoted  to  subjects  most  likely  to  enlist  their 
attention. 

Blossoms    of   Childhood.       By  the   Author 
of  the  "  Broken  Bud." 

The    Lidian    Tribes   of   Guiana. 

By  the  Rev.  W.  II.  Brett.     Illustrated 

Broad  Shadotvs  on  Life's  Path- 

way:  a  Tale.  By  the  Author  of  "  Doing  and  Suffering,"  &c. 
Lucy,  tlie  heroine,  is  an  English  girl  whose  married  life 
is  passed  in  India,  who  there  becomes  a  widow,  and  while 
yet  a  recent  mourner,  is  overwhelmed  by  the  horrors  of 
the  mutiny  of  1S57.  Aided  by  a  faithful  servant,  she 
escapes  with  life,  though  robbed  of  her  beautiful  babe 
under  circumstances  that  lead  her  to  believe  in  its  mur- 
der. Returning  to  England,  she  devotes  herself  to  be- 
nevolent enterprises,  especially  to  the  aid  of  the  dress- 
makers of  London,  to  whose  peculiar  temptations  and 
perils  a  large  part  of  the  work  is  devoted.  The  book  is 
truthful,  delicate,  and  by  no  means  morbid,  and  ends  with 
the  dispersion  of  the  shadows  and  the  happy  restoration 
of  the  missing  boy. 

Brother  and  Sister  ;  or,  the  Way 

of  Peace 

The  Brother's  Watchword 

A  story  of  a  girl  whoso  parents  were  dead,  and  who  was 
left  to  the  guidance  of  a  brother,  a  clergyman,  much  older 
than  herself.  Through  the  influence  of  his  wise  counsels 
she  escaped  the  snares  of  fashionable  life  which  beset  her, 
and  became  a  decided  and  useful  Christian  in  the  midst 
of  gay,  worldly  companions. 

Bunyan's  Pilgrim's  Progress,  ismo. 

_ 


CARTERS     BOOKS    FOR    THE    YOUNG. 


Clara  Stanley ;    or^  A  Summer 

among  the  Hills. 

Little  Crotuns,  and  Boiv  to  Win 

Them.    By  the  Rev.  Jos.  A.  Collier 

This  is  a  Rem  of  a  book.  It  is  a  series  of  familiar  and 
well-conceived  addresses  to  young  readers  on  interesting 
stories  from  Bible  history  These  discourses  are  not  only 
instructive,  but  fascinating. 

The  Cottage  and  its  Visitor.    By  the 

Author  of  "  Ministering  Children.'' _ 

This  little  volurao  is  intended  especially  to  encourage 
and  assist  such  as  oesire  to  benefit  the  poor  but  lack 
e.xperience.  Jt  is  mostly  narrative,  and  has  all  the  charm 
of  the  author's  "Ministering  Children." 

Day-break  ;     or,     Trnth    Strug- 

gliug  and  Triumphant  .....    

Little  Maud  Temperly  lias  a  bad  temper  to  manage. 
She  has  many  temptations,  and  at  first  but  little  help. 
Finally,  through  the  instrumentality  of  a  i)ious  j-oung 
lady  who  loves  children,  and  is  ever  trying  to  do"  them 
good,  she  becomes  a  Christian.  Thenceforth,  "  Right," 
which  is  still  •  struggling,"  is  nevertheless  "triumphant." 

Days  at  Muirhead  ;  or^  How  Little 

Olive  spent  her  Midsummer  Holidays 

A  story  of  a  little  girl,  the  daughter  of  a  Liverpool  cler- 
gyman, who  went  to  spend  her  summer  vacation  with  an 
uncle,  also  a  clergyman,  in  a  villase  in  Scotland.  The  book 
gives  the  incidents  of  her  midsummer  holidaj-s.  It  is  a 
description  of  child  life,  as  it  may  be  supposed  to  e.xist  in 
the  family  of  a  devout  Scotch  luinister. 

UayS   OJ    Utd.       By  the  Author  of  •'  Ruth   and  Her 

Friends 

Three  beautiful  stories,  illustrating  the  condition  of 
Christianity  in  Great  Britain  in  j-aiiy  times.  The  first 
story,  "  WulfiT.ar  and  the  luarl,"  belongs  to  the  time  of 
Alfred  the  Great.  The  second,  "  Caradoc  and  Deva,"  be- 
longs to  the  time  of  the  Roman  Conquest.  The  third, 
"Ebland,"  is  a  tale  of  the  Crusades. 

-  -  _ 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last 
date  stamped  below 


IOto-11, '50(2555)470 


0-..-4\/ 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  365  576    8 


*i 


viiK'Lon:- ; 


-j^^-(.^'-:-i-^Jjv. 


